I’m honestly not sure. Every kiss I’ve shared—with Heathandwith Leo—felt real in the moment. Felt likeeverything.
I should know by now that feelings are unreliable.
My world tips on its axis:Iam unreliable.
“Thank you, Lindley.” Leo gives me a tight-lipped grin, eyes still every bit as bright. He looks away, slides down from the table, and my heart cracks:
I cannot remember the last time he used my full name.
Fix one thing, break another.
59
LIKE WISHES ON THE VERGE OF BURNING OUT
I HAVE TO leave—I can’t be in this room with them anymore, with Heath and Leo and thefeelings.
“Anyone needs me, I’ll be up in Control in about an hour,” I say, settling my metal tray on the countertop with more of a clatter than I intended.
“Anything you need us to do?” Heath asks as I breeze past him.
“Just... stay alive, okay?”
I resist the urge to look over my shoulder as I walk out.
Not that I know where I’m going, exactly—all I know is I need to sort myself out. I’m a mess, and everything I touch is a mess, and I’m sick and tired of doing my best to save us all only to end up hurting people in the process.
I thought I could do this.
I thought I could do it half as well as she did, just because we share blood.
She made leading look easy. It’s anything but.
Almost every place I can think to go is likely to amplify theanxiety I feel, not calm it: the labs, the hydro chamber, Control. Even in the rec center, I’ll feel pressured to run, do anything but sit still and take some time tothink. And besides, the track is just another reminder of my futile desire to runawaywhen I can only run in circles.
Before I’ve really decided where I’m headed, I end up at my own front door. Inside, it’s every bit as empty as I left it. Will I ever get over it? Will it ever feel normal that our place is now mine and mine alone—that she’ll never be waiting for me again?
I turn the fire up as high as it will go, settle into the leather chair. It’s familiar against my skin, cool from lack of use. I curl up into a tight ball and stare so long at the flames I start to see myself in them: ravenous and relentless, never satisfied, blooming and bursting like wishes on the verge of burning out.
I could save this place or burn it down, I think, and I’d never have what I truly want.
What I’ve lost can never be recovered. What I’ve lost can never be replaced.
What happens when what I’ve lost... when part of it ismyself?
She died and took part of me with her.
She died and I’ve been looking for her ever since: in Leo. In Heath. In my ability to pick up the work she left behind, save the station she loved. In anyone who’ll look at me like I’m not just a shadow of who I was before the brightest parts of me burned out. In anyone who’ll look at me like I’menough.
I hate this, and I didn’t ask for any of it. But there is work to be done, and I am still my mother’s daughter, and there are still lives at stake—mine included. Not just what could be taken away by one swift swallow of poison, either; a person can eat and sleep and breathe, but still be ash inside. I’m not quite to ashes yet, and I don’t want to be.
All I can do is my best, I tell myself.And my best will be enough. It has to be.
I repeat it, over and over again in my head, until I start to believe it.
It’s only embers, but it’s something.
60
