Page 11 of Light As A Feather
She’s never been one to give in first. I love that about her. I’m happy to tell her what I want, ask for it, demand it. I have no shame when it comes to her.Usually. Right now, I’m inclinedto make her work for it. I won’t torture her like she did me, but toying with her a little can’t hurt. She can take it.
“Careful, Nightingale.” I lean so close that our lips will touch if she so much as breathes heavily. “Talk like that and I’ll have to handcuff us together.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“Of course I did. Without the sustenance of your love, without the certainty of your true north, I’m a man lost in the dense forest, scavenging for survival. I don’t intend to go back.”
Slipping my fingers beneath the blindfold, I tug it down to her neck and revel in the recognition in her eyes.
“This can’t be real.” The flimsy objection slips out as I cling to the possibility that it’s post-injury confusion or delusion brought on by the stress and lack of sleep.
He couldn’t have found me again. I used fake names, changed my hair, and bartered for my car. I was untraceable. Smoke in the wind. My pride stings a bit.
“Tell me. Does this feel real to you?” The pad of his thumb strokes across my bottom lip once again, the unique labyrinth of his fingerprint clear behind my closed eyes.
“Look. At. Me,” Hawthorne demands.
My eyes remain shut for several more seconds as I try to mentally prepare for the searing sting of bright overhead lights, but when I open them, the staggering clarity of Hawthorne’s gorgeous face is only illuminated in a soft warmth that makesthe golden undertones of his brown skin glow and catches on his many piercings.
“Hello, Sol.” The nickname I haven’t heard in years is a mallet crashing through my denial. The steadying breath I was trying to take evacuates me in a sharp gust.
“How did you find me?” I hate the way my eyes flood with relief when I know that this reunion will be too short-lived.
“The how isn’t important. I was always going to find you; it was only a matter of time.” He runs a finger beneath the restraints around my wrist. I suppress the shudder that tingles in my shoulder blades.
“I told you to let me go. You were supposed to stay away.” Instead of the frustration I hope to convey, my words come out breathy and flustered.
“Toldme.Supposedto.” His laugh is a painful rasp. “You say that as if your leaving was a discussion, as if it was something we agreed to. You never gave me that chance. Now I’m not giving you a choice.” His words aren’t angry, but they carry the weight of determination. “Leaving a note. Running off in the middle of the night. Dictating the end of our relationship. After everything we’d been through…” Hawthorne’s eyes are glassy as he looks up at me through the loose curls that fall across his forehead. The distinct white streak in his dark hair is a reminder of the thing that stands between us. “I deserved more than that.Wedeserved better.”
The criticism-averse part of me is alert, prickling at his admonition, and determined to shut him down. But as he watches me, his pain that calls to mine, buried as deep as it might be, it responds eagerly to his voice, overpowering that rebellious instinct.
“I did what I had to do,” I finally say, but it takes effort to summon the defense that I’m less sure of with every second that we share air, which is precisely why I’ve stayed away from him.
“And so am I,” Hawthorne sighs as he stands from his crouching position, leaning back against the table a few feet away. The silence that follows is a yawning cavern that stretches between us. For several minutes, he simply watches me while I try not to let my gaze rove over him in wonder. But we’re of the same mind.
His study of me is burning hot; a licking flame that catches at the tip of my toes and runs along every nerve ending in my body. I lose the fight to remain stoic and succumb to the urge to stim to relieve some of the tension rioting within my body. Each of my fingers takes its turn tapping against my thumb in quick succession, almost like they have a mind of their own. With a few repetitions, I excise some of the nervous energy, the clashing tide of desire and overwhelm receding enough for me to focus on the conversation we need to have.
“Whatever you think you’re doing, it isn’t a good idea.” The words are barely out before he’s shaking his head in refusal. I chafe at his recklessness, his inability to let go. Even after all these years, he’s dead-set on defying fate.
Despite Ivan’s notable absence, like all things in my life, it’s too good to last.
“Listento me, Hawthorne. Youneedto let me go. I have to put as much distance between us as possible. This was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” The word is rough and dirty as he rejects it.
“You have no idea what you’re bringing to your doorstep.”
“That’s never going to happen.” He crouches down, his fingers coming to gently cup my chin. “There’s nothing worse than losing you again.” His tongue drags over his full lower lip, a nervous tick of his that just happens to make my thighs clench. His gaze homes in on the acute movement. “If it’s so critical that you stay away, why were you so close?”
“You call hours away close?”
“Yes. After years of keeping states between us, a couple hundred miles is close.” He leans into my space while pushing my hands up above my head until my wrists are resting against the back of my neck. “I don’t think someone who truly wanted me to stay away would call me just to hear the sound of my voice.”
“I didn’t?—”
“Don’t youdarelie to me, Sol.” He shakes his head like he can’t bear the thought. His knee rests on the chair, squeezing between my thighs and forcing them apart. “You might have a lot of practice with deceiving yourself, but you’ll never be able to keep the truth from me. I would know the sweet song of your breathing anywhere.” He pulls out his phone, pausing as he navigates through some apps, then the sound of uneven breathing plays softly. “Random numbers and the distance you put between you and the phone couldn’t distort the tune. Not when I listen to it while I sleep.”
The admission renders me speechless.
