Page 39 of To Catch a Firefly

I nod because I know that.

“And then…” he goes on. “Then I come back here, and it feels like…” He lets loose a breath, eyes drifting shut. “It feelsgood. And I don’t understand that. I don’t understand how one place”—he flicks his eyes to me—“can feel like the starting point. Like my beginning. Because I didn’t grow up here. I hated coming here. But I got attached, and I miss it. I never wanted to, but I do. I miss it, and I miss you, and I don’t…”

He cuts off then, shaking his head a little as he faces the yard. My heart is thudding inside my chest, and I reach over, slipping my hand over Lucky’s. Without looking my way, he turns his palm up, squeezing me hard.

I almost say something. I almost open my mouth to tell him how much I miss him, too. But he knows that. I can feel it in the way his fingers clamp mine tight. So instead, I keep my hand in his so he knows I’m here. That he’ll always have a place to come back home to.

It’s late when Lucky’s heavy eyelids win out, and he stands to head next door. He doesn’t seem to want to go. “Tomorrow, we’re spending the whole night together,” he practically demands. “As soon as you get home from work, we’ll—I don’t know. We’ll do something great.”

I nod. Of course it will be great. It’ll be with him.

Seemingly satisfied, Lucky finally shuffles offon heavy feet. I watch him walk the short distance to his parents’ house before collecting our dishes and empty bottles from the table. Inside, the living room is empty, my mom having relocated to her bedroom. I clean up and then head for my own.

Before slipping into bed, I grab my laptop. I flip it open, sitting at the edge of my mattress as I start a new email to Lucky. I nearly snort, knowing he’s less than a hundred paces away, and yet I’m writing to him. But my chest feels tight, my head is whirling, and I know it will help, letting some of that pressure out.

My fingers hover over the keys for a moment before I finally begin to type.

Hi, Luck. You’re here, did you know that? I held your hand less than ten minutes ago, hardly able to believe the flesh and bones beneath my palm were real. Sometimes, my memories of you are so strong, I can almost feel it. The way you heat beneath my fingertips. The firmness of your body against my own. But none of my memories compare to the real thing. If I could, I’d bottle it in a jar—every glance of your hand on my arm, every small squeeze and brush of your fingers, every press of your chest to mine. I’d save them all so I could feel you when you go.

In my weakest moments, I wish you’d stay. I wish you’d hear the words I could never bring myself to give. I wish you’d know the deepest secrets in my heart and, somehow, share them in yours.

I was fifteen when I sat beside you at the top of a windmill, your lip split and bruised like my knuckles. It was us against the world, Luck. The two of us, always. Me and you.

We’ve grown. Of course we have. But still, always, I love you.

Don’t stay away too long this time, my darling firefly.

When I fall into sleep, blue fills my mind, and for a moment, I can see the stars spin.

Chapter 14

Lucky

“You love him,” Danil accuses in the morning.

I brush past him out of the bathroom, my shoulder bumping his at the doorway. He turns, following me down the hall to my room. It hasn’t changed much since I moved out years ago. My parents took down my posters, replacing them with framed pictures I took over the years, and they boxed up some of my trinkets, storing them in the closet. But the walls are still a light green, and the furniture is the same.

I head to my luggage, pulling clothes from within. Danil shuts the door, and I can feel his stare on my person the entire time I change. When I turn around, he’s waiting with a raised brow.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I tell him. Because I can’t sayno. I can’t lie. Not about that, no matter how much I try to deny it inside my own head and heart.

Danil lets out a huff, arms at his sides. “You don’tneedto tell me anything, Lucky, but Iamhere for you, you know. Justbecause we’ve fucked doesn’t mean I’m not your friend first and foremost.”

“I thought we were coworkers first,” I mutter, taking a seat at the foot of my bed.

The look Danil gives me is unimpressed. “Semantics, you little shit. Why…” He pushes off from the door, sitting beside me. I can’t quite bring myself to look his way. “Why did you lie about him?”

“I didn’t,” I say on autopilot.

“You did,” he counters. “You said you had a crush,once. You belittled your feelings.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” I say a touch hotly. “Ellis doesn’t see me that way, and I would never put pressure on him for that. I wouldn’t…end our friendship just because he doesn’t feel the same. I’m still his friend, first and foremost, too.”

“Even though he’s yourbig romance,” Danil says, emphasizing the words.

I meet his eye, cheeks warm despite myself. “Ellis and I haveneverbeen that.”

The look he gives me is smugly doubtful. “Right. The man—once boy—who showed up on your doorstep with two blue boutonnieres. That was prom, I assume? Surely nothing romantic about that.”

---