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She seems… small.
For someone with so much attitude, so much fucking aggravating personality, seeing her quiet and broken is startling.
She curls up under the blankets, those shivers finally starting to die down a little bit. She’ll warm up the rest of the way and be fine.
I turn to leave, ready to go back to my room and try to pretend like this didn’t happen.
But before I can go anywhere, one hand shoots out from under the covers and catches my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.
Her fingers are icy on my skin, and instead of jerking away from her or telling her she’s on her own now, I just… sit on the bed. Giving in to her silent plea.
We don’t speak or even look at each other. Her fingers release my wrist and then slide down to lace with mine. They start to warm up as we stay like that, my body heat leeching into her.
It’s dark in her room, except for the scant light from the moon outside, and I just stare into the darkness, thinking.
I lose track of how long we stay like that, and I can’t say what moves me to speak, but when the words come, I just say them.
“You were right,” I murmur. I know she’s awake. I know she can hear me, even if she’s out of it right now. “Some things are broken and aren’t meant to be fixed.”
She doesn’t say anything, but her hand is still in mine, and it’s like I can feel her listening. The darkness is like a blanket around us in this moment. Wrapping us up. Keeping this between the two of us.
“But that doesn’t mean they’re fine how they are,” I continue. “It just means theyarehow they are. There’s no changing them or undoing the past. There’s no gluing the pieces back together and remaking the whole how it once was. There’s just sorting through the shards and making something new out of them. That’s all you can do.”
My words seem to echo in the silence, and for a second, there’s no response from River. But then her grip on my hand tightens.
I knew she was listening.
I squeeze back, and for a second, I’m lost in memories. I think of the beautiful woman with dark hair I was in love with once. How bright and open she was. How she changed everything for me.
And then, for another second, in my mind’s eye, I see the flames. They flicker, bright and intense. I see them engulfing her, cutting her off from everything and everyone else. I can see the panic and fear and helplessness in her eyes, and I remember feeling all of those things myself. Like someone was ripping my soul out of my body.
It’s like being there again, being trapped in it. The scent of death and smoke and burning all around me. The flames hot on my skin. The helplessness makes me nauseous, and even though I know it’s a memory and what’s done is done, thinking about it just makes it worse. I hate bringing it all back up again.
I clench my jaw, forcing the visceral memory of Jade’s death back down again like I do every day. If I keep control of it, it can’t own me. I can’t be hurt by it. It’s too big to deal with all the time. Too much to let it sit close to the surface.
I think of the three men who’ve become like brothers to me, and how understanding they were when I shut down after that. When I wasn’t the same person they used to know. Knox even helped me get my vengeance, standing with me and helping me make it right.
None of them tried to change me or fix me. They just let me be. They still do.
Yeah, Ash makes jokes from time to time, but that’s Ash. It’s his way of dealing with things, and it’s never anything too bad. They all stayed with me, all rallied around me.
They didn’t try to make me go back to the way I was. They just learned to love the shards of me.
River doesn’t respond, but I know she gets it. I know that whatever is going on with her, she has those memories too. The ones that shake you down to your core and make you into a different person than you used to be. There’s no way she doesn’t. She talked about broken things because sheisa broken thing, walking around spewing bravado because that’s all she’s got left.
It’s her way of coping, I guess. The way shutting down and keeping everything under tight control is mine.
It feels strange to understand her like that. To know I’m seeing part of what makes her tick. I can’t tell if I like it or hate it, but it’s too late now. I can’t unsee it.
We keep having these moments. I keep coming to her aid, even though I don’t mean to. Even though I tell myself I don’t want to.
I don’t know what any of that means.
“Go to sleep,” I tell her, my voice a little rough.
I don’t let go of her hand.
There’s some shifting as she makes herself more comfortable, and eventually, her breathing evens out.
She’s asleep, but I still stay. I keep sitting there, holding her hand. I stay until the sun comes up.
