Page 79 of Heimlock

“That would’ve possibly been worse.”

Would it? So if everything was wonderful aside from us both enjoying the gym, you’d still insist on breaking up after finding out?

“Well, now you make my rule sound silly.”

I’m doing no such thing. It’s a legitimate question. This rule is important enough to you that we’re … well, we’re whatevering right now. The rule itself has led to this exact moment in time. So I think it’s a fair question to ask.

“It’s not just about the rule, though.” I look away from his observing eye.

Are you not going to answer the question?

“I am,” I snipe, finally irritated by this conversation. His prodding makes me feel ridiculous. I know it’s not his intention, but when it’s put into simple terms, it sounds like I’m the one who threw away the potential because of a rule.

But I am the one who threw it away, aren’t I?

It’s easy to say how I’d react in a certain situation without experiencing it, but my choice was based on all ‌the information I’d had at the time.

It’s not like Trinte appeared with a sign that said, “I am loyal, honest, funny, protective, and excellent in bed.”

If he had, would it have influenced my decision?

Undoubtedly. I negotiated with an attractive stranger who pulls hair perfectly and kisses like each one is his last. I wasn’t actually negotiating with the real Trinte Gleanscale. Knowing what I know would’ve made a difference.

“No. I wouldn’t have insisted on it.” Trinte’s been silent for so long, I start to think I’ve pissed him off. After a minute without speaking, his body temperature rises to an alarming degree. I frown. “Did I upset you?”

His voice is strained when he says, I’m … feeling a lot right now. But I’m not upset with you.

“I’m sorry if—”

This is your apartment complex, yes? He descends, landing on my complex’s landing platform.

I jump, landing lightly on my feet. “Trinte, if what I said was upsetting, I’m sorry.”

It’s your truth. That’s all that matters. As we’ve reminded one another, there’s nothing we can do to change the past.

Stepping closer, I press a palm to his snout. Trinte’s head jerks, like he wants to pull away, but stops himself. That’s progress, right? Running my hand along the broad expanse between his eyes, I say softly, “We can’t change the past, but maybe we can figure out a different way forward?”

Now Trinte moves his head out of reach. It’s gentle, but symbolic enough. You still have four questions. Tell me how you feel about things then. Goodnight, Firefly.

“Goodnight,” I whisper as he turns and leaps off the edge of the cliff.

***

The next morning, I wake up in my closet, staring at the awning of jackets. It took me ages to fall asleep, wired until near sunrise.

Should I feel bad about murdering Huracio? Maybe. I don’t, though.

I really, really don’t.

My mom met him when I was fifteen. While it took him about six weeks of pacing outside my bedroom door to actually start doing something, when he finally did, it became a nightly occurrence. Sometimes, I’d wake up already naked with him on top of me.

Talia asked me once where my mother was.

She was right next door, doing nothing.

While I can’t prove she knew anything about what was going on, whenever I tried to tell her, she would shut me down with insults or flat out walk away. There’s no reason to believe she didn’t sanction it.

Huracio wasn’t the first of Mom’s boyfriends to do that. Mom had a tendency to pick awful men who probably did the same things to her. My childhood was a revolving door of alcoholics, addicts, and abusers. Huracio was the longest-lasting, taking away three years of my life and so much longer than that.