She sprawls out, shoulders stiff and tight, my ancient plaid coat wrapped around her. She dips her face and her nostrils flare as she inhales. Does she smell me? Does that bring her some measure of comfort? That sends a wave of heat spiraling through for the first time since that dream knocked me on my ass.
I walk to the edge of the blanket and dig the toe of my boot in the grass. “Is this okay?”
Her eyes flick to me and I almost get a twitch of her lips. “You mean standing there like a creep? No. That’s not okay. Take your boots off and stay a while.” She pats the blanket beside her.
I wrench my boots off, nearly stumbling and falling on my face, but I catch myself and sprawl out with no grace at all.
Yeah. I’m fucking nervous.
My heart is redlining, my palms are soaked, and my stomach is a bundle of knots and bush pie sandwiches. I keepmy eyes resolutely open. When I close them, the images from the dream are still splashed all over the backs of my lids.
Esme doesn’t edge close. She stays on her side of the blanket and I stay on mine. Sequestered. There isn’t more than a few inches of distance between us, but it might as well be miles.
I cast my face up to those great big balls of fire and gas. It almost seems wrong, that something so beautiful has a scientific explanation.
My chest swells as we lapse into silence. The fire is still burning strong. Esme set the blanket out just far enough that we wouldn’t be plagued by smoke. Occasionally, a dark flying insect dive bombs above us. The trees rustle quietly behind us. When we renovated the cabin as a club, we took down a bunch of stringy trees and brush to make something of a yard. In the clearing, the stars are entirely unimpeded.
There’s what I want, and then there’s the reality of the space between us. The space of the blanket. The span of years. The emotional charge that both attracts and repels our hearts. Everything unsaid and all the words we’ve already spoken.
“Show me Venus,” I say, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible.
Esme’s hand rises up and a cloud of her scent follows. Floral shampoo and citrus breezes, all tangled up with oil and gas andmefrom my jacket. “Right there.” She keeps going, tracing the Big Dipper, then phantom touches Gemini.
There are no shooting stars. No once in a lifetime rush of stardust and rock sizzling across the sky. Nothing blinks.No planes bisect the sky, cutting between dark and sparkling light. There’s nothing to wish on, but I do it anyway.
I wish that I could take one of those stars and hold it in my palms. Get down on my knees and present it to Esme, a mirror of my soul. I wish for a thousand other things that I shouldn’t. I could be wrong. It’s unfair, putting this on her. Before… it felt like it would never happen. Maybe it could have, if only I’d said something. Now? It feels like maybe they could, if I had the courage to open my mouth. I don’t know how. Neither of us do. This was entirely sprung on Esme. A surprise for her at the worst time. I know she doesn’t trust herself. She doesn’t evenknowherself. I should give her space to figure it out, but what if that’s not what she really needs? Should I keep pressing forward, hoping for a fresh start that we can shape ourselves around? Can we rebuild?
I want to give her back herself when she doesn’t know how to find it. “You don’t have to be perfect, Esme. I’ll always love you exactly as you are.”
She slaps a hand over her mouth, holding in a sob, but it doesn’t disguise her sniffle. She sucks in a messy breath against her palm. I reach for her immediately. She could tell me to fuck off if she wanted to, and I know that she’d shove me away if she didn’t want my comfort, but she folds herself against me. One arm lands on my chest and she rolls, collapsing as soon as her cheek finds my shoulder.
She cries quietly, not big, body wracking sobs. She contains herself, even as she hides against me. I want to be her refuge. I’m cracking her open and it hurts, but I can’t think of any other way to do this. I can’t make it hurt less, but I can be here.
I stroke my hand over her silky hair like she did to me on the loveseat by the fire. I wanted to leap out of my skin when she did it, I was so full of joy and confusion and hope that I didn’t want to dig into me, afraid that it would leave scars on top of scars.
I drop my face to the crown of her hair and pepper little kisses there. It’s too much. I should pull back. This moment wasn’t made for me to take any sort of advantage of her. She’s giving me her unguarded heart, and I need to doeverythingI can to protect it.
A mosquito buzzes over our heads. I fling my hand out to brush it away. “You have the best heart,” I murmur into her hair.
“We have acres of scorched earth between us.” She sniffles, but digs down deep to find her resolute determination. “We have ruins and wreckage. The smell of smoke taints everything, even the good memories.”
“Smoke doesn’t always have to ruin. Yes, it comes with fire, but it can purify too. It can cleanse and renew.”
The heat of her body flows sharply into mine. I clench my eyes shut and urge myself to slow down. We don’t have to run full tilt into anything. What I want is a life that we create. I want to find what’s right, not smash headlong into something that we try to reanimate.
I need to stop, but I can’t help myself. “I used to think to myself that even if we never were together and I never got to love you like I wanted to and dreamed of doing, at least I did get to love you. You were in my life, and that was so important. It’s neverstoppedbeing important.”
I twist onto my side to face her. I know how hard it must be for her to do the same, but she does. Her eyes fix on my face and never leave. Even tilted away from the sky, they’re still full of starlight.
Just when I think that we’re getting somewhere, a place where we can stand outside ourselves and inside ourselves too, a place without walls and without caution or bitterness, or sadness and anger, Esme’s eyes slide away from my face and drop down to the blanket. She picks at one of the yarn ties.
“We could try, Esme.” I don’t want to be pathetic enough to beg, but fuck me and my pride and everything else, I’m going to. “I know you’re not perfect, but so what? I’m far, far from perfect myself. I know it would be hard, but I’m not gonna give up at the slightest little bump. I don’t need a trophy. I wantyou. Your mind, your soul, all your wounds and your darkness, all your light and the goodness and the love you still have to give. I want to take it and return it ten times. A thousand times. I want to give you the world. We don’t need all the answers. I think… we just need totry.”
Her hand flies out and lands on my shoulder. She pulls us together fiercely and rests her forehead against mine. “You deserve more than trying and failing,” she says vehemently. Her fingers claw into my shoulder. “You deserve more than giving it your all and getting hurt. You deserve every single one of those stars up there, but they’re all out of reach to me.”
“They’re out of reach to me too! That’s the point!” I back off an inch so I can look at her again. “Esme! Jesus, sometimes I want to—to—I don’t even know. I’m so frustrated. You’re not hearing me. You don’twantto hear me.”
She blinks and I immediately regret my words. They were too heated, too much. I don’t want to hurt her. None of this is her fault. I don’t ever want her to feel like it is, or like she’s obligated, or that she owes me something.
