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Cosima
“You’re family.”
For a moment it’s déjà vu—from a dream, of all places. In my dream, he held me like this, said those words.
But this is real, and I get choked up remembering how he held me that morning, a few days ago, and offered that to me. A gift.
He doesn’t really know me at all, and he’s offering to go with me. Do I trust this?
Merc… I think of those clear blue eyes as I c
lose my backpack, getting ready to head to Memphis. The honesty shining through them. The steadiness of his low voice, his arms around me.
Can I ever trust anyone to accept their words as the truth again?
Not anyone: Merc. Trust Merc.
“Call me,” he said. “We’re in this together.”
This is happening too fast. He’s worming his way into my heart, taking over my thoughts, my mind. My body tightens with desire just at the thought of him. We’re racing toward each other like we’ve gone off the rails, on a collision course, and I’m not sure I can survive it this time.
Not if he walks away after I’ve torn down all my walls and let him inside deeper than any other man before.
Putting some distance between us may be best right now.
I pat the kitty’s head, leave my key with the neighbor in case I do stay away for a few days, together with a bag of kitty food, and head to the bus station.
I buy my ticket, settle in a seat at the back and plug in my earphones, then take them off. My head aches. The engine rumbles, and we’re off, rolling through the city. It’s just for a couple of days, I tell myself. Merc doesn’t need to put his life on hold for my sister. I’m her family. And I don’t even know if I can be of any use there.
Mom and Dad sure think there’s nothing they can do. Then again, that’s what they always think. Easier that way, I guess.
The streetlamps are still on. Dawn is breaking. We leave the city behind and take the highway. A few hours and I’ll see her face to face, discover what’s really going on.
I should catch some sleep. Pressing my forehead to the cool glass, I listen to the humanity around me. A guy in the seat across from me is talking low on his phone. An old lady with a little girl a few seats ahead is singing a lullaby. It’s soothing. I’m not sure my mom ever sang us lullabies. I can’t remember. Do moms even do that anymore?
Sleep steals up on me, a dark mist that drags me under before I realize it’s happening—and the moment I close my eyes, I fall into the dream.
I’m floating in water. It’s warm, and the stars twinkle overhead. Strong arms support me, wrapped around my middle, a warm breath ruffles my hair.
“Okay?” It’s Merc’s voice, Merc’s body underneath me, that big frame, all that hard muscle and long limbs. “I’ve got you, girl.”
In more than one way, it seems, and I moan as he sinks into me, that thick length opening me and filling me up so perfectly I could cry.
Wanting more, wanting him closer, to feel his chest against my back, his mouth on my neck, I push back, and he pulls out. The loss shakes me, breaks me. I turn, reaching for him, and somehow we’re facing each other through the water.
His pale hair is floating around his head like a luminous cloud, his eyes are wide, crystal with cobalt starbursts.
Red plumes spread behind him, underneath him.
A drop of crimson escapes his mouth, floating up like a tiny fish, darting this way and that as if expecting me to try and capture it.
Then he’s sinking, a slow descent through the glass-like water, and I can’t catch him, can’t sink down with him to reach him.
Can’t save him.
I wake up with a gasp, forehead still pressed to the glass, heart thumping hard. Outside, the world is brightening, the sky the color of Merc’s eyes.
He’s in my thoughts, in my dreams, in everything I see and hear and touch.
