Page 158 of Murder

The world is still while she looks into my eyes, seeing through my soul. “Bear, because you’re mine. I feel it. You are mine to hold and take care of and check on…and fuck. I want to hold your hand. I want to know about you. Why? Who cares why? I’m not asking. I don’t have an answer, either. Who does? Why’d you say you love me?” Her throat moves as she swallows; her eyes twinkle as she hoarsely asks me, “Did you mean it?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you love me, Barrett? Is it the color of my hair? The baked goods?”

I lick my lips. “I like your smile,” I rasp.

Her face slackens, and I can feel her gaze grow a little more serious under the weight of what I think must be self-consciousness. I run my fingers over her jaw.

“I think it’s sexy… You.” How do I convey to her that there is only one Gwen, only one sweet, kind, sexy, crooked smile. “Your eyes,” I manage. My throat feels full, but she looks somber, so I push past it and give her some of me, whatever I can muster. “Your eyes make me feel…better. About life. The way you look in leggings.” I stroke her ass. “So fucking hot. The lights on the ceiling.” I kiss her temple. “You’re good, Gwen. You’re so good, I can’t help but love you even though I know I shouldn’t.”

“Trust me, baby…” She trails her lips over my cheekbone. “You’re good, too.”

Her breath is warm and sweet. I shut my eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m going to keep saying it,” she warns me in a murmur.

A strange panic burbles in me. I look at her and I feel my heartbeat in my shoulders and my throat. “I gave pain, and I deserve it. That’s the way it works. There’s nothing good about me.”

If she’s going to be with me, she should be warned.

The ache—in my head, my jaw, my chest—fuzzes into numbness as I try to breathe. She melds her soft body around mine.

My hands, on her shoulders, shake. The two of us are locked together, her tethered to me and it’s so wrong. So wrong.

“You seem like a dream…to me.” The words swim in my head; unsteady words. “Rewrite the story…” I clear my throat so my voice isn’t as cracked and get the nerve to look down at her. “You said I have to rewrite what happens… But I can’t. Because I don’t deserve it.”

GWENNA

“Does Kellan think that?”

He frowns.

“Does he agree with what you said? That you deserve pain?”

He shakes his head, looking troubled. “I don’t—”

“You are in pain.” I stroke his wrists; I look into his desperate eyes. “You’re here, you’ve been back for a while, but you’re still hurt. I know.” He looks down as his face hardens. I can feel his body still: embarrassment or shame. I stroke his strong arm. “You’re doing the best you can, baby, trying to hold yourself together… I know. And you’ve done really well. You’re so strong. But you know what? I think you can’t trust yourself on some things. Not right now. A part of you—” I swallow. His eyes flick to mine; our gazes hold and it feels tender, then bright like the sun, almost painful. I push forward in a breathless whisper.

“I think you want to hurt yourself. You don’t know what to do; you can’t see your way out. And you can’t trust yourself right now to know what you deserve. Kellan loves you.” I swallow, clearing my throat. “I love you. Cleo loves you, too. So I think you have to at least take into consideration what we think.” I take his hands in mine and squeeze. “We don’t think you should be hurt, or that you deserve to be in pain. We want you to feel better. I just want you to feel good.”

I hold him to me. His body is shaking. I can feel his pain seep into my own bones.

“Whatever happened over there?” I lean away so I can look into his tortured eyes. “That is in the past. That Barrett? He’s gone. Maybe you can think of him as dead. He’s gone, just like Breck. You can’t reach him anymore, because he’s gone. Maybe things were so bad, you wanted the pain. To have control over yourself or…I don’t know. But you can be a different person now, I swear, I know you can. Not can—are. You’re here now. You won’t go back there. You couldn’t if you wanted to. So I think maybe you should let that person go. Because he is gone.

“You’re not a sniper anymore…” I wrap both arms around his back, and Barrett leans against me, quiet and still. “You’re not a killer, Bear. You’re my neighbor… You live in the woods. With bears, and a weird girl who makes cakes with beer. You still look like the other Barrett… You have scars of his. But you— I know this Barrett. You’re sweet and brave and strong.” I stroke his soft hair. “What was left from all that stuff, what you came back with—the day you met up with Kellan and Cleo and they drove you to rehab your arm—that guy: the one who moved here and saw me at the meeting… You are him. And he does not deserve to hurt.”

I take his face in my hands; he lifts his head off my shoulder and I stare deep into his eyes.

“If it doesn’t ring true to you, you have to believe me. Because in this way, I can see more clearly what’s right… your brother can… Cleo can… You are someone new now. The other Barrett, that one…” I shake my head, struggling for words. “Maybe you feel so bad because you’re holding onto someone who is gone. And maybe you should mourn him. He isn’t coming back. And who you were before then?” My voice cracks. “I have one of those too. This ghost version. She isn’t coming back either. You know what I mean?”

His wet eyes blink at mine. His sweet, still face… I cup his jaw, stroking gently over his soft skin.

“That Bear is gone. And you can miss him. Miss him. I miss the old Gwen. She was different, but you might have liked her.”

Tears slide down his cheeks.

“The Barrett who enlisted? Dead. The Barrett who was over there? He’s gone, too. He probably died with Breck.”

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