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“And as for the dream you’re burning?” she continued. “You’re not being stupid or sentimental. Dreams are even harder to give up on than any reality. What we want, what we imagine in our heads, is a fiction that lives and breathes even though it doesn’t actually exist. When we recognize that it’s not real and we have to let it go? We give up a tender part of ourselves along with the fantasy. It hurts.”
He had to look back at the fire because he didn’t want her to see into him.
But like she hadn’t already?
“You trying to psychoanalyze me,” he murmured.
“No, I’m just sharing an observation.”
“So you’ve given up on some dreams, too, huh.”
“Worse.” When he glanced over at her, she shrugged. “I’ve always been too scared to have any. I’m a coward like that.”
“You’re no coward. No fucking way.”
There was a period of silence, nothing but the crackling from thefire making noise between them. Well, that and some owl half a mile away who was talking into the cold darkness.
“Do you feel better now?” she asked.
He kept staring at the flames, thinking about all the things that could be consumed by them. And all the things that couldn’t.
With a shrug, he replied, “With what I’ve burned? Not really. With pointing out you’re a good fighter? Yes.”
Nalla laughed a little. “I think you’re biased for reasons I can’t fathom. Whatever, though.”
As she stood there, he wanted her to leave, but not because he didn’t like having her with him.
“The sweatshirt was over thirty years old,” he remarked. “It was in perfect condition because it’s been in a drawer all this time. I used it as an excuse to go somewhere and see someone, and it’s time to say goodbye to all that.”
“Letting go of things can be healthy. Even if it’s hard.”
How am I going to say goodbye to you, he thought.
On that note, if he was starting down this path of see-ya-laters that Rahvyn was sending him on, he might as well begin with the hard ones, right? Rahvyn herself, with that stupid sweatshirt he’d left at the worksite at Luchas House—just so he could force Shuli to go back with him, just so he could maybe, hopefully, run into that female.
In burning the damn thing he was shutting the door on that ridiculous fantasy he’d created about her. So following that theme, how about he did himself a favor, now that he was warmed up with romances that went nowhere, and stage-left’d it with Nalla?
Right here.
Right now.
“Your fire is going out.” Nalla nodded at the sticks he’d gathered. “Do you have other things to let go of?”
“Yeah. You.”
As her eyes flipped up to his own, he cursed himself. But there was a serious no-take-back on that shit.
There was a long silence. Then she said in a low voice, “What if I don’t want you to let go of me.”
“Then I’d say we have a problem.”
“Do we?” she countered.
He nodded his head. “But it’s up to you.”
Her answer was in the way she moved: With slow, deliberate steps, she came forward, stopping when she was toe to toe with his shitkickers. She was not as tall as he was, and he liked the way she had to look up at him, because it exposed her beautiful throat.
As his blood pounded, he wanted to know what she tasted like. What her naked skin felt like against his own as he pierced her vein and took her inside of him.
