AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And I hate it. Pain lances through me like I’ve just had a sword stuck through my heart, severing it in half all over again. Just when I was starting to feel intact and undamaged.
My hand reaches for her, fingers caressing the inside of her wrist. I can’t let this connection be severed between us. My own self-destructive habits can’t ruin what we’ve barely begun.
Clearing my throat, my hands tighten around her wrist, until her eyes draw up to mine. “Pick whatever shirt you want, beautiful. I’ll be right back with the shorts.” My voice is intentionally soft as I stare at her a few beats, refusing to give up so easily.
Not on something that feels this fucking good.
Irelynn nods and I slip past her, focused on something besides her. Momentarily. Pulling my drawer open, I grab them, then head back toward my closet. She stands there, a teal t-shirt in her hands. My fingers wrap around hers, leading her to my bathroom. “You can change in here. When you’re finished, we can hang your dress and jacket on my closet door.” Handing her the gray shorts, I’m still holding onto her other hand, refusing to let go.
“Okay.” She smiles at me reassuringly, the gates opening again, beckoning me inside.
And it’s only then that I let go of her. Coldness descends over me the second her hands leave me, like the chill of the cold, November wind.
She steps further inside the bathroom, her hand wrapping around the doorknob. Her body faces mine and she pauses, her eyes saying so much more than her words could convey, as her soft smile spreads wider, lighting up her face before she closes the door.
I stand there, my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants, basking in her warmth that remains behind. She reminds me of the joys of being a kid on Christmas morning, magic flowing through the air.
From the deepest recesses of fear that lives inside my heart and permeates my soul, reality crashes over me, dark thoughts whirling through my head. She doesn’t know me, or the secrets of my past. She’s blissfully unaware of the skeletons in my closet.
One thought, in particular, makes my blood thicken and turn to sludge, freezing me from the inside out.
How would she react if she knew the wretched story of my past? Would she still look at me like I’m her savior—or a monster intent on ruining her?
Chapter eighteen
Max
August26,2018,9:00p.m.
Irelynn steps out of the bathroom, her bare feet sinking into the plush beige carpet of my bedroom. She wanders to the cherry fireplace across from my bed, her fingers trailing along the mantel, her gaze locked on the only picture in my bedroom. The large silver frame holds a photograph of me and my grandparents, our arms thrown around one another, huge smiles lighting up our faces. Love and joy seep from us, captured forever in that bittersweet moment.
I move beside her, sadness filling my body as I gaze at it, my breath hitching inside my chest. Turning my head to hers, her eyes lock on me, moisture filling her eyes. “This is a beautiful photo, Max. Your grandparents?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak, as emotions whirl inside me like a raging storm. From the calm and peaceful lull that leads to complacency that all is right in the world, to the tumultuous and destructive hurricane that levels everything in its path, altering the world in such a way that it can never go back to the way it was before.
Acute loss courses through my body, making my knees weak, as I retreat into the darkness, grief taking me under like the fury of an ocean wave during a tsunami. Unconsciously, my palm moves to my chest, rubbing over the scars hidden beneath my shirt.
The ones that cost me everyone I loved, forever destabilizing my world, causing it to wobble on its axis.
Irelynn’s hand moves to my wrist, pulling me from the depths of my darkness, the waves no longer pounding over me, drowning me. My eyes meet hers and I’m pulled from the water. She is my life raft, my savior, in this moment. The anxiety and panic that spun uncontrollably through every facet of my body dissipates as I silently stare at her, feeling the connection humming between us. Relishing in it.
Words are unnecessary as our breaths fall out of us in unison, floating between us like a lifebuoy. She brought me back to the present, calming the swirling waters, and leading me to the safety of the shore.
I have no desire to be anywhere else right now. It feels like I’m meant to be here, with her.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her words wash over me, ringing with all the sincerity of someone who has experienced the trauma of losing someone they love. Death has a way of reaching its icy hands out, stealing your loved ones away in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a bereft void that can never be repleted.
You learn to coexist with your grief, gradually accepting the hard truth that what once was will never be again. But you do your best to carry on, many times unexpectedly floundering when you think you’ve made progress, only to find a memory sucking the breath from your lungs, as the engorged hole in your heart gapes open again. Eventually, the painful wound becomes fissures that band your heart together until you can learn to live again.
I haven’t been living. I’ve only been mindlessly existing, pretending my world was good. Until one moment upended my life, bridging her and me together, the trauma of the situation trying to break her. I swooped in, holding her pieces together, doing my best to defend and rescue her.
Nodding, my eyes fill with moisture. “They are the worst loss I’ve ever experienced. A void that I’ve never been able to fill, let alone replace.”
Her hand slides down to mine, entwining our fingers together. Bowing her head, tears shimmer on her lashes. Her voice trembles when she speaks. “I understand. I’ve experienced that kind of loss as well.”
I’m already aware that she has, recognizing it in the depths of her soul as it climbed its way out of her, the misery evident in her dark chocolate eyes.
Slowly moving my other hand to her chin, I tilt her face to mine, not wanting her to hide her vulnerability from me. I’m not going to let her drown alone in her grief. I’ll reach for her, pulling her from the depths of it, just as she did with me. “Who did you lose?” My voice is coaxing and gentle, my desire to learn more about her overriding everything else. To meet her where she’s most exposed and suffuse her with strength and comfort.
