She hiccups, a shaky laugh slipping through. “Dorian. Are you not paying attention, Ryker?”
I grin at her, watching her head tilt back slightly, the bottle in her hand wobbling. “Just how much have you had to drink?”
“A bit,” she admits. Her voice is small, vulnerable. “I don’t know how to move on from him.”
She looks defeated, and my chest clenches. I reach out and brush a loose strand of hair from her face.
“I know you probably won’t even remember this tomorrow,” I admit, “but if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over Claire either. I think that when you’re truly in love with someone, you never fully get over them.”
Her eyes widen slightly, then settle into a softer, hazy gaze. “You… you really think so?”
I nod. “Yeah. Some people, they get under your skin and stay there no matter what. You can fight it, try everything, but they linger.”
She lets out a small, shaky laugh, taking another sip of water. “I hate that. I hate that I can’t just erase him.”
“You can’t,” I tell her simply. “It’s not something you can carve out.” My hand hovers near hers again, brushing her knuckles. “And maybe you don’t want to.”
She presses her forehead against her knees for a moment, then lifts her head, voice low, tired. “I’ve tried to. I really have. But every time I see him, feel him, it’s like… like all my trying means nothing.”
I slide a hand along her back, rubbing circles and trying to calm her. The room smells faintly of wine and snow and her, and it’s dizzying. She’s raw, open, exposed in a way I’ve never seen.
The warmth of her hand in mine is a tether, something real in the middle of all these confessions and mistakes.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” I murmur, almost to myself. “Not even close.”
Her laugh is small, bitter. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re human,” I counter. “Not a mess. You’re just… figuring things out. And sometimes figuring things out feels like falling apart.”
She snorts, a small hiccup cutting through. “Falling apart feels about right.”
I shake my head, smiling softly. “You’re tougher than you think. You just don’t know it yet.”
She cups my cheek again, thumb stroking lightly. “I can’t stop thinking about him. About Dorian. No matter what I do, I’m still… this.” Her voice is thick with frustration and longing.
“I get it,” I say, voice low. “I get it more than I’d like to admit. And you’ll find a way, eventually. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but you will.”
She leans closer, resting her forehead against mine this time, and I can feel the tremor in her body. “It’s just… I wish I could move on.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I know. And it’s not a reflection on you. Love isn’t tidy. It doesn’t care about timing or rules or any of that. It just happens.”
She sighs, finally letting herself relax against me, water finished, wine forgotten. “I just… I hate that it has to be this way.”
I press a gentle kiss to her temple. “It doesn’t have to be easy. It just has to be real. And right now, this? This is real.”
She closes her eyes, leaning into me, hand still in mine. I feel the subtle tremors of exhaustion and emotion running through her, and I keep my hand on her back, grounding her, letting her know she’s not alone in this.
I let the silence stretch between us, comfortable in its weight. Her confession, her drink, her heartbreak—all of it is raw, and I can’t fix it.
I can’t make it better. But I can sit here, beside her, and let her know she’s not facing it alone.
I watch her eyelids flutter, breath evening slightly, and I think about Claire. Some things never leave you. Some people never do.
And maybe that’s not a curse. Maybe it’s just proof that the connection, the love, the fire we carry, doesn’t fade that easily.
Norah shifts beside me, leaning a little more, finally letting herself rest against the wall, against me. Her hand tightenson mine, and I squeeze back, a silent promise of presence, of understanding, of quiet solidarity in the middle of her storm.
It takes her being still for at least seven minutes before I realize she’s dozed off. Damn it. I slide out from beside her, careful not to jostle her, trying to think through what comes next.
