Page 89 of The Space Between
He stills and looks down at his hands. He sighs. “Both. You’re in my head… but at night, when I close my eyes, I see them, and I feel guilty.” My breath catches. “I laid there for hours after youfell asleep and thought about whether it made me a bastard. If it was disrespectful. If Molly would hate me… if Aubree would understand.”
My heartshattersat the pain in his voice… the guilt… the uncertainty.
He doesn’t look up as I reach for him. I can’tnot. My hand covers his. “Gruene, you’realive.”
His voice is ragged. “I don’t always feel like I am.”
“You are.” My own is tight with emotion.
He is. He’s here and I’m here and he’s not responsible for what happened to them.
“Why did I live while they died, Blakelyn? Why am I the one still here? Aubree was a child. Molly was a good person. She wasn’t perfect, but I’m damn sure not either. Of the three of us, it should have been me. I shouldn’t be living my life, moving on, while they’re just gone.” The anguish within his voice is gutting me.
“I don’t have the answer to that, Gruene. No one does. Everything that happens, good and bad, has a purpose. I’ve always believed that. I still do. Even when I don’t understand. And Idon’tunderstand why your wife and beautiful baby girl were taken from you… or why I fell for a man who turned into a monster. But I have to believe that there was—there is—a reason.” I exhale as tears fill my eyes. Somehow, I hold them back.
“I don’tunderstandit, but I do believe it. You said you went to church with Molly and Aubree. I believe God exists. So do you. With that faith and belief, I hope in time clarity comes.
“You are breathing, Gruene. So am I. That isnota coincidence. It’snota mistake. Maybe we were supposed to meet right here, right now. Maybethisis what’s supposed to happen. My grandma always said, ‘God doesn’t make mistakes, Blakelyn.’ I wholeheartedly believe that.”
He lifts his eyes, and they’re soaked in something raw. They’re glassy and filled will pain, anguish, torment, confusion, but also… hope. “I don’t knowhowto do this,” he whispers. “For so long I’veexisted… I don’t know how tolive.”
Rounding the rest of the desk, I walk over to him. Leaning down, I cup his cheek, and he tenses, watching me. “Then, we learn together.” Climbing into his lap, I hold his face in both hands. “You’re not alone anymore, Gruene,” I murmur. “And I’m not either.”
His lips part but no words come out.
So, I kiss him. It’s slow. It’s deep. It’s real.
I pour everything I feel with my whole heart into the kiss because I’m not ready to say it yet. He groans against my lips. His hands fist in my shirt—his shirt—I feel the shift… not in his body… in hissoul.
His mouth turns hungry… not frantic… not rushed but starved in the way that only comes from going years without something youneedtolive.
His hands drag up the back of my thighs, gripping, spreading, and anchoring me to him. “You’re too good,” he murmurs, his voice broken against my lips. “Too good for me, Blakelyn.”
“I’m not.” I whisper between kisses.
“You are.” He growls before taking my lips again. His tongue slides over mine and I moan deep into his mouth.
“I’m just me,” I moan, pressing my forehead to his as I breathe heavily. “Andyouare what I want, Gruene.”
He groans low in his chest. “Fuck, Blakelyn.”
“Take me,” I whisper. “To my cabin… to the bed you stayed in last night.”
He stills beneath me. His chest heaves. His hands tremble and then, he nods.
Just once… like he’s handing me something sacred… like he’s ready totry.
He calls out to Reece that he needs to handle something. Reece simply nods and yells out that he’s got it covered.
Then, Gruene doesn’t say a word on the short walk between the shop and our cabins.
He just holds my hand. Tight… like it’s the only thing tethering him to this moment.
He doesn’t lead me to my cabin, he leads me to his. I’m surprised, but it disappears quickly. The second the door clicks shut behind us, he presses me against the hard wood and kisses me like he’s drowning… like I’m oxygen.
I kiss him back like I’m willing to let him breathe me in until there’s nothing left.
His hands are under my shirt, he growls, “Seeing you in my shirt has me almost unhinged, Blakelyn.” Before I can say anything, he kisses me. His hands are gliding over my back, then moving through the neckline of it, and weaving into my in my hair.
