Page 94 of The Space Between
Steady.
When I don’t speak, she reaches for me, lacing her fingers through mine. She says, “Just start with tonight.”
Something inside of mebreaks.I nod and close the door behind me, following her into her cabin.
Okay, Blakelyn. I’ll try.
For you… I’ll try because you’re right. This is something real and I don’t want to lose it.
I don’t want to lose you.
We sit on her couch like we’ve done it a hundred times before.
She hands me a glass of iced tea. No whiskey. No expectation. Just cold sweetness and the sound of cicadas through the screen.
“Tell me more about them,” she says after a while. I stiffen and she turns to me, facing me on the couch. “Only if you want to. You’ve told me some things, but I’d like to know more. They were your family, Gruene. They mattered and I’d like to know more about them becauseyoumatter tome.”
I stare at the floor, then set the glass down and scrub both hands over my face. “Molly hated the heat,” I say, finally. “She always bitched about summer. Said she should’ve been born in Maine, but she wasn’t serious. She’d never have left Texas.” Blakelyn smiles. “She had this laugh,” I go on. “It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t polite. It was loud as hell and usually at my expense. It’s what I noticed when I first saw her. And it made Aubree giggle, so I kept chasing it.” I glance over. She’s listening like I’m telling her something sacred. “She wore these God-awful sandals with flowers on them and made fun of me for being a ‘macho man with a hero complex’ but she always smiled when she said it. And she used to leave little notes everywhere. Grocery lists. Reminders. Jokes. Bible verses sometimes. I used to find them in my toolbox.” My voice cracks. “She left one the day she died. Taped it to the fridge. Said she wanted chicken for dinner, and we were out of chicken.”
The silence is thick, she doesn’t say anything, but she’s listening, offering comfort… just waiting. She shifts closer, herhand resting on my thigh. “And Aubree?” I swallow hard. “She was a perfect baby. She slept through the night from the beginning, and she would light up when she heard my voice or saw me. She loved her momma, but she was a daddy’s girl. And I would have caught the moon for her.
“She hated bananas but loved carrots. She loved pretty, princess dresses but she would tromp through the river in them. A tomboy in a tiara and sparkles. She had this pair of purple jelly shoes that were so ugly, but they were her favorite. She wouldn’t go anywhere without a stuffed frog she named Pizza.” Blakelyn smiles, but her eyes are glistening. “She called me Daddy Frog. Thought it was funny…” I inhale and my teeth grit as grief threatens to suffocate me. “She was my whole world… they both were…” My voice is ragged. Tears slip down her cheeks and I have to look away. “You asked,” I say roughly.
“I know. And I’m glad you told me. They both sound amazing, Gruene.”
I nod my head. “They were.”
She shifts into my lap without asking, straddling me. She cradles my face like I’m not poison and whispers, “They were your family, and you loved them. It sounds like they certainly loved you, too.”
My jaw tightens. “They were mine to protect and I failed them.”
“It was a tragic accident, Gruene. You didn’t fail them. You loved them.” I close my eyes.
I hear her. I do. But it doesn’t make me feel any less responsible.
She kisses me. It’s soft, sure, and fucking relentless.
“I see you,” she breathes. “I see the man who survived, not just the one who lost those he loved.”
I lose it. Tears clog my throat before I can stop them, I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s too sharp, too sudden, too close to the surface to hold back. My shoulders shake with the effort. I fail.
She doesn’t flinch. She just pulls me into her chest and holds me through the wreckage.
She hugs me for an hour, smoothing my hair back, and stroking my cheeks. Her lips wipe away the moisture, doing nothing but offering comfort and presence while I let out everything I’ve kept under lock and key for six years.
Then, my lips find hers. She lets me kiss her. She kisses me back with tears still on my mouth. Somehow, we end up in her bed. She whispers, “Gruene, take what you need.”
I groan, “You. I need you. Touch me.”
She peels my shirt off like she’s memorizing me, taking her time, running her hands and her lips over not just my body—but over myscars.Her lips trail from my shoulder to my hip where the glass carved me open. She worships the one on my wrist from five years ago, where I tried—once—to join them and changed my mind too late. She kisses every one of them, leaving no part of me unscathed.
I lock eyes with her as she climbs into my lap, and I lower her onto me. She lets me guide her, here and present, proving she trusts me and I’m something shewants… something shechose.
My hands are on her hips, rocking her over me. Letting her fuck me as she holds me.
She watches me watch her. Her hips pick up pace and she grinds down on me, planting her hands on my chest as she falls apart with my name on her lips and nothing between us.
When I come, it’s with my hands buried in her hair, her skin slick against mine, and a guttural sound I didn’t know I could still make.
