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I walk over to him and grab the tips of his fingers. “I knew the risks. You told me about the risks. Hence the sword. Next time we see her, you use that. Destroy her.”
He looks off into the distance, jaw wiggling back and forth.
“Hey,” I say to him, squeezing his fingers until he looks back down at me. “I’m okay. I really am.”
“You got lucky.”
“I got a warning. Next time we’ll be ready.”
He stares at me in such a way that I feel his eyes in the depths of me, a hot intensity that builds and builds until my lungs feel tight. But he doesn’t say anything.
And I don’t say anything.
Because I’m afraid to say what’s really on mind.
I’m afraid to ask him what she meant when she said he has feelings for me. Was she telling the truth?
And what do I want the truth to be?
Finally, Max looks away, breaking the spell. “We should get back to the hotel. Stop by a pharmacy and get something for your arms.”
I don’t argue with him.
We get an Uber and make a quick stop at a CVS where he picks up a first-aid kit, which is probably good planning, then we go up to the room. I get changed in the bathroom into a t-shirt and wash my arms with soap. The burns aren’t as bad as they were earlier, but Max insists I sit on my bed while he dresses up the wounds.
I sit there, conscious over how close he is as he carefully dabs Polysporin on them. I study the top of his head, marveling at how he doesn’t have a single grey in the sea of red. You’d think centuries upon centuries would take their toll in at least a subtle way.
“Have I ever told you that you have great hair?” I tell him.
He chuckles softly. “Many times.”
“Oh. Good to know I’m repeating myself.”
“You’re just running out of compliments.” He straightens up and I look down at my arms. “Not sure if I should bandage them or not. They’re healing nicely.”
“You mean like I have super healing strength, like Wolverine? Or, I guess, you.”
“If this were a regular burn you’d be screwed. But it’s not a regular burn. Your body has adapted to fight it specifically, as I’m sure any other injuries you might sustain from them. In time, it won’t matter.”
“Well, she did call me useless. Guess I kind of am for the time being.”
He frowns, anger flashing through his eyes. Being this close to him, it comes off as a wave of dark energy that almost pushes me back. “I don’t like to think what could have happened.”
“Then don’t think about it.”
“I could have lost you…I would have never forgiven myself.” Raw dark sorrow and anger comes through him, making me physically ache in response.
My chest is feeling too small for my heart.
I reach out, place my hands on the side of his face, run my fingers back through his hair, watch as his eyes close. I feel like I’m having an out of body experience as I do this, like I’m not even breathing.
“Max,” I whisper to him, and god, we’re so close.
All I would need to do is lean in.
Lean in two inches and place my lips on his.
I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I pulled him out of the Veil and felt him solid beneath my hands, I’ve wanted that and I’ve never understood it, but maybe now I do.
And if I do it, if I kiss him, then maybe I’ll know for sure.
Maybe I can tell how he really feels about me.
Am I just like a little sister to him or am I something more?
Can I ever be something more?
Do I want that?
He’s breathing heavily, his lips parted, as if waiting for me, his brow furrowed, eyes pinched shut, and I don’t know if I know what’s happening or if he does.
Will I ruin everything if I do this?
It’s enough to make me stop.
I press my fingertips against his temples, close my eyes, and try to find the truth some other way.
He’s made up of nothing, Ada.
Haven’t you looked?
I’m looking.
And suddenly the energy that’s flowing through my fingers bursts like an atom bomb and I’m flung back across the room, flung back into nothing but a black hole and I know what I’m looking at.
I’m looking at him.
In him.
I’m looking at what’s in Max, at what he’s made of, his conscious, his mind, his soul, and it’s just empty space.
No, no, it’s not empty.
It’s filled with so much sorrow and despair and hopelessness that tears fall from my eyes and I’m clutching my stomach, falling to my knees, feeling like my heart, my soul, are being sucked out into the abyss and I will become nothing too.
There’s nothing here but pain.
