Page 82 of The Space Between
I exhale sharply and snarl, angry, but at myself. “It’s not about you. It’s theriver. It changes fast. You can never trust it, Blakelyn! When are you going to learn that?”
Her chin lifts and her eyes harden. “I’ve learned this river, Gruene. I know when it’s safe and when it’s not. I’m not an idiot. And you aren’t mad at me. But I can’t have you make love to me one night, and then, look at me and see your family’s ghosts hours later. I thought I could handle this, give you space and time and that you would seeme, but you don’t. You can’t. You’re so goddamn lost in your grief and your misplaced and insane blame that you don’t actually see me at all, do you?”
What?
No, that’s not…
I see her. I’m looking at her.
But I can’t just forget them! I can’t forget that they’re gone and it’s my fault.
My voice is flat as I say, “I see you, Blakelyn. I see you too fucking clearly. Iseeyou and your face is now overriding theirs and I can’thandlethat. I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to you… and they’regonebecause they trustedme.”
Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.
Yeah, that shuts you up.
But not because you agree, right?
You just weren’t expecting me to admit it out loud.
We don’t talk much… not because she’s angry… but becauseIam. But not at her.
I’m pissed at myself.
At the way I handled it.
At the past that still grips my throat like it owns me.
And at the way I keep hurting her because I’m fucked up.
I leave her there, standing on the bank. Going back to the shop, I lose myself in mindless tasks—patching raft seams, reorganizing the supply trailer, and cursing at the wasps that built a nest under the awning, again. By the time I head home, it’s past nine. Her lights are still on.
I debate with myself on if I should walk right past her cabin.
I don’t.
She doesn’t open the door right away when I knock.
Her eyes are red rimmed when she finally does, and her arms are wrapped around herself.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I blurt out before she can speak.
She hugs herself tighter. “Right. But you did.”
“I know.” I reply, with my hands fisted at my sides to stop myself from reaching for her. I don’t know if she would welcome my touch.
She sighs. “I wasn’t drowning, Gruene.” Her voice is soft.
“Iknow.” I inhale.
“Then, why did you look at me like I was Aubree… or Molly? I’m not. I’mBlakelyn.” Their names on her lips slam into my chest so fast I flinch. She notices and softens… just a little more. “I’m not them.”
“I know that, too.” I reply gutturally.
I know she isn’t. But she’s starting to matter as much as they did, and I don’t know what to do with that.
“Then stop makingmepay for what happened tothem, Gruene.” She sighs again and reaches out, placing her warm palm over my clenched fist. She steps to the side, inviting me in.
