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“Did you interview my parents before you came here, or are these all your observations?”
“People are worried about you.”
“I can’t do anything about that.”
“Yes, you can.” Her silver eyes went down him. “You can take better care of yourself, and seek some support.”
He just shook his head because he didn’t want to say what was really on his mind.
“That is it?” she prompted into the silence with her formal speech pattern. “You are just going to stand there and—”
“Rahvyn, you have your own shit to worry about. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
The wind changed direction and smoke came between them, obscuring her and, God, he wished she’d finish the job and just ghost the fuck out. He didn’t like to be around her, and even though he hated the memory, he thought back to all those years ago, to when he’d seen her and Lassiter, out in the field behind Luchas House. Nate had brought her a bouquet of flowers. That angel had turned the entire meadow into a sea of blooms.
As she kept staring at him, he wanted to yell at her to get the fuck off his property. Instead, he went with: “Okay, you clearly have something to say to me, not the other way around. So have at it.”
“What are you burning here?”
“Wood.”
“What else?”
“Nothing.”
“Nate.” She looked away. Looked back. “You received a second chance. What are you doing with it, though. This is no life you have.”
Nate glared at the female. Angel. Whatever the hell she was. “I didn’t ask for your magic, and I don’t owe you anything because you chose to bring me back from the dead thirty years ago. If you don’t like the outcome, that’s your problem, not my fault.”
“Life is still a blessing, Nate. Even if you do not have to worry about death anymore. It is still precious even though your own is no longer rare.”
He thought back to the last time the two of them had been alonetogether. The goodish note they’d left on had soured over the decades because he’d soured on everybody and everything—and that was about so much more than the crush he’d had on Rahvyn, and the way she’d ended up all happy-happy-joy-joy with Lassiter. The reality of Nate’s existence was that all he had was time, and he was suffocated by the countless years ahead of him. Every night he woke up and faced the hours like a bog he had to trudge through, and every day he braced himself for the nightmares that stalked him to the point of madness.
Rinse and repeat.
Until what… the world exploded? Yeah, and then what? If his body was completely destroyed, he’d probably just regenerate, sprouting arms and legs and a head again, and end up floating out in space dying and being reborn for eternity.
Oh, and the shit with Nalla tonight? And what he’d put her through? There were so many reasons to stay away from that female—but the biggest one was the lesson he’d learned that was standing in front of him right now.
He’d been burned once already. He wasn’t looking for a repeat that he could mourn for the rest of time.
“Immortality is not a gift, it’s a curse, Rahvyn. And you never asked me whether I wanted this kind of forever. If you had, I would have said no.”
The bleak shock that tightened her beautiful face nearly made him take it back on the surface, tell her he didn’t mean it, that everything was fine. But he didn’t lie to himself, and he wasn’t going to lie to anybody else.
A silver tear traced the contour of her cheek and she captured it with her fingertips. “I am so sorry you feel that way.”
He looked away, to the flames, and thought about how the decisions made by other people steered the course of destinies, for the good, and for the ill.
“Nate, there are so many people who care about you, who want to help you. They have stopped reaching out after all these years, butthey are still around you, ready to try again. There is no time limit on love. Even if it is up on a shelf, it can be taken down and held again in the heart—”
“Do us both a favor and leave,” he cut in with exhaustion. “You may have practiced this conversation in your head a couple of times, but it’s exactly the kind of interaction I’m not interested in having. I am not responsible for managing the emotional knickknacks on other people’s heart shelves—or whatever that sappy metaphor is. You’ve already done your best work on me once, and no offense, I’m not looking for any kind of repeat. This first go-around has been enough of a nightmare. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going inside.”
As he was turning his back on her, she said, “I can take it away from you.”
Nate stopped. Pivoted around. “Excuse me.”
With the flames flickering over her face, she was at once of the winter landscape and an ethereal specter. “If you are that miserable… I can end things for you.”
