Page 167 of Burning Daylight
“And then there’s you.” Her tone sounds frayed now, like the words are tearing up her throat.
I don’t move. I’m afraid to breathe, worried that if I do, the pain in my chest might collapse my lungs.
“You’re…” She swallows and tries again. “You’re everything.”
“Juliette—”
“Let me get this out.” She throws her hand up.
My fists clench, heart pounding, gut fucking sick with nerves.
“Youfeellike everything,” she amends. “But then I walk through town, and I see you there. On the brick. In the glass. On the campus.”
She presses her palm to her lips, and her voice breaks. “Every time a new mural goes up, I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a war I didn’t choose. And I can’t tell which side I’m supposed to run from.”
The space between us stretches tight, and I just stand like a stone statue, because what can I say?
What can I offer her? What can I do to tell her that I’m enough when I know that I’m not—when Iknowthat if I leave, my mom will be left out in the dust.
“What are you telling me, Little Rose?” I finally force out, my jaw aching and my heart fucking bleeding onto the floor.
My fists are clenched, arms pinned to my sides because if I let them move, I’m afraid they’ll reach for her.
“I can’t stop loving them just to find a way to be with you.”
And there it is.
The quietest knife with the sharpest blade, carving through my chest.
The burn climbs high and fast, spreading from behind my nose to my eyes. My lungs twist like they’ve forgotten how to work, and I press my knuckles to my mouth, swallowing over the sudden thickness in my throat.
Understanding flows through her perfect face like she’s just figured out the answer to a problem she’s been trying to solve, and she steps toward me, her head tilting.
“I love you,” she says.
She takes a breath like she might take back what she said, and even though I’m frozen in place, I might die if she does.
If I move, I’ll fall to my knees. If I speak, I’ll probably beg. And I don’t know if either of us will survive those things.
My chest feels like it’s caving in, my throat’s raw from the effort of staying silent, my eyes sting, and Ihatethis.
This isn’t how it should be.
She should be able to love me, and I should be able to loveherwithout limitation. Without this ridiculous feud between our families that hasnothingto do with us.
And just like that, everything slots and re-slots into place, a physical click locking inside my body.
This whole time I’ve been torturing myself by having responsibilities, people that I can’t walk away from. But Brooklynn signed the papers. There’s money and solutions in her hands.
And when the hell has my mom ever done anything for me?
Juliette’s lip trembles and she presses it flat like she’s trying to swallow down her emotion before it kills her.
“You don’t have to say it back,” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t even realize until it was out there that it was how I felt, and I don’t?—”
God.
I blink, and then I’m moving. My hands find her face, rough and trembling, and I pull her to me like every second before her was a wasted moment.
