“You’ll wait for me?” The last word hitches on a sob and I close my eyes while he brushes away my tears now just like he did back then.
“Yeah, Zlatícko. I think I will.”
Bohdan
It might be more painful to say goodbye to Sloan on the gangway than it was to see her again—standing there, beautiful and brilliant, shining under the sun, waiting to board the ship.
My scar feels tighter than it should, pulling along my hairline, and the telltale throbbing starts the second I step down onto the dock. The corners of my vision are a bit fuzzy, and I know what science would say.
It’s the sleepless night spent propped up against a wall. It’s the dehydration from drinking more alcohol than I should have. It’s the exposure to all that sunlight over the last seven days. It’s the fact that I wasn’t exactly keeping up with my medication regimen the way that I should have.
Those things are probably all true.
But they’re not as true as what my heart says in my chest each time it beats.
It’s the girl.
It’s letting her go.
The wheels of her suitcase hit the worn wooden planks of the dock with a thud, and she looks up at me, the angles of her face soft, the freckles on her cheeks stark.
She blinks, shifting back and forth on her feet, and I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it, but she fiddles with the strap of her tank top, covering the tattoo. Uncovering it. She takes a shaky inhale, drops the strap—over theB—and reaches into her back pocket.
My cup ring sits in her outstretched palm.
“Sloan—” I start.
She scrunches her nose, shaking her head. “Take it. I definitely broke more rules than you.”
I do take it. Not because she broke more rules than me—I broke the biggest ones of all—and not because I’m particularly interested in keeping it, but I’m selfish and I want to feel my skin touch hers one last time.
She shivers when my thumb scrapes along her palm.
I reach for my wallet, but she holds her hand up. “Keep the Polaroid. I hope one day I won’t need it back.”
I feel a bit like laughing—my prized possession I’d have died to keep, and now I’d trade it, willingly, for a time machine or one more chance to make things right.
She must see it in the lines of my face, because she tilts her head to the side, hair tumbling over her shoulder, and she winces, eyes darting around the dock like she’s waiting for the bad thing to happen, and whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say, voice rough. I palm my jaw before grinning at her. “Never stopped. Never will. I’ll be waiting for your pigeon, Zlatícko.”
She laughs—it catches on unshed tears, but she tips her head back, her eyes sparkle under the sun and her palm splays across the golden skin of her chest.
Time stops and I want to hold on to that sound for the rest of my life, but Tia steps down onto the dock beside her, nudging her shoulder. “Sloan, you ready?”
Sloan gives her a shallow nod, and she forces a bright smile when she hugs Talon and Jay goodbye.
Tia holds her arms outstretched, and she pops up onto her toes when she hugs me, whispering softly before she kisses my cheek, “Who knew your martyrdom could end up serving a purpose greater than your self-sacrifice?”
She pats the side of my face before she interlaces her fingers with Sloan’s, and steers them both, luggage rolling along behind them, to the opposite end of the dock.
Sloan looks back once. She doesn’t say anything, but she holds her hand up in a tiny wave.
I wait until she looks away before dropping my head back and staring up at the sun a bit too long.
“Sorry, Bohdan.” Jay runs his thumb along the inside of his chain.
“No one to blame but myself for this one.” I press my fingers to my forehead before scrubbing my face. “Sorry we ruined your cruise, Talon.”
