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Just like then, I can’t say a word. All I can do is admire her from afar and wish I could pull her into my lap and kiss her hard.
The sun kisses her olive skin, accentuating her inner glow. But as always, it’s her expressive hazel eyes that draw me in. Although, today there’s not an ounce of affection coming from them. They’re now cold and filled with resentment and anger. However, beneath the icy façade, traces still remain of the Seraphina I knew—the one I loved and who held my heart so gently. The only person who really understood me when things got to be too much while I was playing.
After all these years apart, that longing for her still burns inside me. Even with our painful history, some foolish part of me can’t let go of the possibility of a future together.
I watch as Seraphina approaches the edge of the pond, clearly frazzled after her confrontation with Ellington. She held her ground against him, but it’s evident by the way she’s shivering that the encounter left her shaken.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I say gently as she comes to a complete stop. She startles at the sight of me.
“Why are you here?” she demands, irritation flashing across her delicate features.
“My brother brought me. He believes this place can help me heal,” I explain with a slight shrug.
This isn’t the time to be obtuse, but I can’t tell her exactly why I asked Talon to bring me to our spot.
“I mean here in my private spot,” she clarifies, the annoyance in her voice growing with each word.
I have to repress a grin at her indignation—she’s always been cute when riled up. I tried not to provoke her temper too often, back when we were . . . I force myself to cut off that thought sharply before it goes too far. Before I beg her to love me again, to let me touch her at least one last time. It’s been so fucking long since I last saw her, held her, kissed her. Just having her near me again transports me back through the years to those more innocent times when she was mine and our future shone bright with promises.
Being near her again is agony and ecstasy. The years may have passed, but she still has an iron grip on my heart. The biting grief and guilt quickly snap me back to the present. Because I know that beautiful, naïve future was stolen from us forever.
Why am I here? It’s so simple. If she’s going to kick me out, I need to see her one more time. Hear her voice even if it’s just words of hatred that will probably lash at my already beaten soul. Regardless, I wish I could tell her how much I’ve missed her and that life without her is hell. In my head, this encounter would be completely different. She would forgive me, and I would tell her that I still love her.
I want to say that I’m right in this spot because I love you and if I could, I’d confess my sins—all of them while asking for forgiveness and hoping for a sliver of your heart. Because existing without you has been pure torment. Instead, all I can manage to say is, “You’re predictable.”
“I want to push you into that lake and watch you drown,” Seraphina snaps, eyes blazing with long-buried rage. Her words hit me like a punch to the chest, leaving me breathless.
What I want to tell her is that she already pushed me into an abyss the day she refused to listen. She destroyed any chance of our love surviving.
That’s the conversation we have in my dreams—me pleading my case, her turning away, darkness closing in. The words I long to say that she’ll never hear because she’s no longer interested. Not after everything fell apart.
In my fantasies, I can explain how her leaving gutted me, plunged me into despair. How I’ve missed her with every fiber of my being. How life without her light has been an endless stretch of bleak, colorless days.
But the bitter truth is, she doesn’t want to listen anymore. She wrote me off long ago. My dreams are just illusions—in reality, she hates the sight of me. She’s already drowned me in an inky sea of sorrow once before. There’s no coming back from that, no possibility of redemption or rebirth.
I sigh, the sound edged with anguish. What’s the point of me being here, ripping off the scabs of old wounds? So, all I say is, “And I’d probably be thankful for it. You’ll finally finish the job you started seven years ago.” Because at least death would be an escape from this endless longing and regret.
Seraphina stares at me as if I’m a stranger worthy only of pity. I see the disdain swirling in her eyes, in the set of her mouth. She’s looking at me like I’m somehow less than human. It cuts me to the core.
“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m not letting you off that easy. I’ll help you fix yourself. Not because you deserve it, but because . . .” Seraphina presses her lips in a thin line, giving me a scornful glare before turning away sharply.
I watch her retreat, seeing the anger radiating from each sharp movement. Her words baffle me. She clearly hates me, so why keep me here? Why not let me finally have the escape I crave?
What the fuck am I doing at Seraphina St. Clairmont’s house?
Did Ellington forget to do his homework? Why in the world did he bring me here?
It doesn’t take long for my brother to find me. I glare at him. “Why here?” I demand. “No, the question should be: what the fuck were you thinking?”
He just shrugs casually. “We thought it was the best for the two of you,” he states.
I stare at him incredulously. Does he want me to atone? Seek forgiveness I don’t deserve? I use my good hand to comb my hair, trying to calm my frustration and anger at the only person who’s still by my side, even after everything that’s happened.
“‘We?’ Who else agreed to this madness?” I stare at him in disbelief.
“Zane and me,” he states calmly.
I release a loud, bitter laugh. “You’re fucking certifiable, you know that? Talking with your dead boyfriend isn’t healthy. I’d recommend you seek professional help, but maybe Zane won’t agree to it.”
