He had strong fingers, the kind that looked like they could fix anything. A broken chair, a busted engine, a heart that never learned to beat at the right tempo.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure. Not like I have secrets left.”
He considered his words, then rolled them out with care. “Why’d you come back here with him?” He nodded at the empty seat, the one Caiden might’ve filled if he weren’t always halfway out the door. “You could have brought anyone. Or no one.”
“It’s complicated,” I said, and hated how true that was. “I think I wanted to see if it was real. The change in him. The way he looked at me in Colorado, or how he’s acted since.” I risked a look at Dante. “He was awful to me for so long. But what if that’s not all there is? What if he can be different?”
Dante took this in, nodding slowly. “He can. I’ve seen it. But it’s not on you to fix him.”
“I know.” I rubbed at my temples, feeling the slow crawl of caffeine into my veins. “You ever want to believe something so much that you start lying to yourself? Like, if you want it enough, it has to be true, because otherwise—” I trailed off. “Otherwise, you’re just a moron with a broken heart.”
He smiled. “That’s called faith, Amelia. You’re not a moron for having faith, or for having a good heart.”
“I think my heart too good, and I wish it wasn’t, because I’m afraid this will end with me being hurt.”
“Then you should be honest. With him. With yourself.” He tilted his head, dark eyes catching mine. “And with me.” The air shimmered, full of invisible threads. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered. “You deserve?—”
He held up a hand, stopping me. “Don’t. Don’t say I deserve better. I’ve told you there is nothing wrong with you. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, even before we became close. I’d watch you when you’d be by yourself, or when Caiden would torture you, and I’d feel guilty as hell on the sidelines for not saving you,” he paused and held his breath, before continuing. “I almost had you, but things became complicated with Caiden. Wrong timing I suppose.”
I stared at Dante, at the honest plainness of his face, feeling something shift in my chest. The last embers of leftover anger at Caiden threatened to flicker up, but I smothered them. “I just wish I knew what the right timing was,” I said. “Seems like every time I think I’ve got it, I’m wrong again.”
He shrugged. “That’s the trick about time, isn’t it? It just moves. Doesn’t care whether you’re ready or not.”
For a while, we listened to the sounds of the lake house: the pipes shivering behind the walls, the wind scraping at the windows, the birds still singing like they didn’t even know what heartbreak was.
I wondered what it would be like to choose Dante, not because he was safe, not because he was a way out, but because he was his own kind of gravity. What would it be like to let myself fall toward him instead of orbiting around Caiden’s black hole?
I imagined kissing him. The thought startled me, because it felt possible. It felt honest in a way I hadn’t let myself admit before.
Of course I’d thought about it, since we kissed in the motel room. I’d wanted to lean over him, touch the hair at his temple, feel what it was like to be seen by someone who wasn’t already drowning.
But I’d chosen someone else. Or maybe, I realized, I’d never chosen at all.
That was the thing about Caiden and I. It was a push and pull. I pushed forward, and he would pull away. He pushed forward, and I would pull away. I wondered what would happen if we both pushed, and if neither of us pulled back?
Would we collapse together, or would the force send us careening off the earth? Would we become new and catastrophic, or would we burn out in a single supernova?
A small voice appeared in my head, telling me that maybe I just don’t love myself enough to choose Dante, who would be the safer and nicer option.
Maybe this would be a huge mistake. Maybe it’s my trauma bond pushing my thoughts towards Caiden. Maybe it’s the version of myself from years ago who saw how bruised and broken Caiden was and wanted to fix it.
Maybe I hadn’t changed at all, and choosing Caiden meant I was moving backward.
Caiden and I were so similar in our pain, I thought it was a good thing; it meant we would understand each other. Maybe it was the opposite, maybe the damaged ones were meant to love and be loved by somebody who was whole.
There was only one way to find out.
I sipped my coffee, burning my tongue, and set the mug down.
“I think I want to see where it goes with him,” I said slowly. “That’s the truth. I owe it to myself to see what’s there and if it’s real or just some fucked up muscle memory.” My hands curled around the mug, knuckles white. “I’m sorry, Dante. You deserve a clean answer.”
He didn’t flinch, but I could see the disappointment slide through his eyes and settle at the corners. “I figured,” he said softly. “You two have this...history. I used to tell myself it was like gravity, but I think it’s more like stagnation. You keep going the same direction unless something big knocks you off course.”He tried a smile. “Maybe you need to finish falling before you can stand up again.”
I closed my eyes, wishing there was a way to explain how heavy it felt to have someone else’s hope tangled up in your chest. Instead, I shook my head. “I’m not saying this to hurt you. I just can’t be another person who lies to you, or to myself.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I liked you in the first place.”
