Chapter Seventeen
Jared wished he knew what Silas had put on the piece a paper he'd crumpled up and thrown away, but he wasn't going to ask. He didn't think Silas had even been aware that Jared had been watching him. He'd tried to be subtle about it, but he couldn't help stealing glances at the vampire in between writing his own lines.
He almost felt a little bit guilty for not focusing on his letter the way he should be if he wanted to honor the memory of his dead family. Honestly speaking, though, he found it hard to think about anything but Silas. There was nothing he wanted more than to somehow be able to help the young man by his side.
The way he should have done all those years ago.
He had a second chance now, and he couldn't fuck it up.
When Silas told him that he was going to check on the dog, abandoning the idea to write a letter altogether, Jared let him. If Silas didn't want to grieve the way Jared did, Jared couldn't force him too.
Besides, he still knew too little about the relationship Silas had had with his sire. It was hypocritical of him to wish that the vampire would talk more, and yet he did. If he could get Silas to open up...
Shaking his head at himself, Jared focused on his own piece of paper again. Even if Silas didn't want to do this, he would still finish up.
The letter he was writing to his family this year was vastly different from the letters he'd written so far. Normally, he'd tell them how life was going, how busy he was at work, how much he wished he could taste his mother's cooking again and how much he missed all of them. Now he had to tell them about vampires.
I think I may be falling for one of them,he penned, then stopped, surprised at himself. He glanced up, but couldn't find Silas easily in the dark.
Was he really falling for the vampire?
He shouldn’t be. Silas wasn’t in the right kind of headspace to enter into a romantic relationship, and Jared should give him space, and yet… Inevitably, his thoughts went back to the night before, to how good Silas's mouth had tasted.Own me,Silas had said, and Jared had wanted to take him up on it.
He looked at his letter again, at the last line. He should cross it out, but what was the point in lying to his dead family?
Making himself move on, he wrapped his message up with a few more sentences about how he hoped his family was doing fine, wherever they were now, and to please watch out for him and Silas. His hand hesitated when he started to write Silas's name, but then he pushed on. He wasn't sure if his family could watch out for them or not, but Silas could definitely use all the support he could get.
Jared would support him.
Standing up, he cast his gaze along the beach again, trying to find the vampire, breathing in the salty smell of the sea. A dog barked to his right, and then he could make out Silas's silhouette, coming toward him.
"Done writing?" Silas asked, his voice sounding a little lighter than it had in the car. The dog was doing him a world of good.
"Yes. I'll just put it in the water. Then we can leave."
"Okay."
Jared felt Silas's gaze on his back as he walked toward the shore, never stopping until the water lapped at his feet whenever the waves rolled in. Slowly, he set the bottle down and watched as it was carried away, like so many bottles before it.
Sometimes, he wondered if anyone ever wound up finding the ships he built, but that really wasn't what this was about. When the bottles disappeared from sight, he liked to imagine that they disappeared from the world too, carrying his messages to the people who were really meant to hear them.
When he turned around, he was surprised to find Silas only two steps behind him.
"Thank you for sharing this with me." Silas's voice was barely louder than a whisper. Jared had to strain to hear it over the sound of the waves.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I do, though," Silas insisted. "You've been watching out for me this entire time and you never ask anything of me." He said that like it was a big deal. Maybe in his world, it was. Silas came a step closer, invading Jared's personal space. "I really wish I could just..." he broke off, either unsure of his words or unsure if he should be saying anything at all. "I really wish I'd never been turned," he said eventually, breaking Jared's heart.
“If you hadn’t been turned…” Jared didn’t finish that sentence. They’d both seen that particular memory. Michael, bruised and bloodied on the ground…
“I might have survived or not…” Silas’s gaze dropped and a bitter smile bloomed on his lips. “Either way might have been better.”
Everything in Jared drew tight at those words, at the pain in Silas’s voice. If he’d just worked harder, if he’d just gotten him off the streets before that night… If he’d just taken Michael back to his place… But he hadn’t wanted to take advantage. He'd...
He'd made all the wrong calls.
But that was ending now.
