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“You can’t run away anymore.I won’t let you,” he states, a stony edge to his voice.
“It’s self-preservation,” I snap, trying to shield myself from his scrutiny.
He scoffs, the sound slicing through the still air.“Is it?”His question lingers, heavy between us.
“This ...”I gesture with a trembling hand between us.“We’re toxic for each other.”
His eyes mirror a pain that resonates deep within me.
A pain I wish to ignore.
A pain I long to forget.
A pain that’s carved into our souls, irrevocably.
And this is all that keeps us together, a thread of pain connecting his heart with mine.
The anguish was his doing, our undoing.Perhaps I am being harsh, blaming him, when our circumstances bore the real guilt.And suddenly, I find myself wanting to ask him to fuck me.To erase it all.To make me forget once more.
“We need to close this chapter,” he murmurs, echoing his earlier words.The air between us fills with tension.“It might be the only way to clear the toxicity drowning us ...slowly killing us.”
“And once it’s done, it’s truly over,” I say with a mix of desperation and uncertainty.The words spill out, driven by a profound need for resolution, though the exact outcome remains unclear.
Will we find a better place or vanish from each other’s lives?
Yet, with a sense of conviction, I say, “We should ...never see each other again.Cut this from the root.”The weight of finality hangs in the air, punctuated by the raw emotions that eat at my heart and soul.
His gaze meets mine, a silent storm brewing within.“Grey, once Pandora’s box is open, it’s all chaos and regret, just like in Greek mythology.I can’t predict what’ll happen next.”His words linger in the air—a promise or perhaps a warning.
“Just remember,” I respond, steeling myself, “if I ask you to stay away, you will.”
“I’ll try my fucking best.”His response is an abrupt promise.This is the first time he acknowledges my words and even responds to them.The other times, he just left without giving me a glance.
He leads me toward the plane.Each step feels heavier than the last, my heart beating a disjointed rhythm of dread.But Sanford’s firm grip on my hand propels me forward, guiding me up the steps and into the aircraft.
Inside, the muted hum of the engine fills the confined space, the gentle vibration reverberating under my feet.I sink into the plush leather seat, Sanford settling beside me.As the plane begins to move, I can’t help but glance out of the tiny window.The world outside seems both real and distant, and maybe I wish we could stay here indefinitely.Nothing and no one can touch us—but we can’t outrun our past.
The comforting humof the plane engines lulls me into an unexpected sleep, as if I’m being tenderly cradled away from the harshness of reality.The tranquil embrace surrounding me is abruptly shattered by the pilot’s voice sounding through the cabin, signaling our descent.Startled, I become aware that nearly three hours have slipped away, lost within the realm of dreams.
“Welcome to Luna Harbor.”Sanford’s voice slices through the peaceful silence, the words hanging in the air like an intimate secret.When I open my eyes, he’s next to me.His intense blue gaze is on me.
“I thought you said we were going home.”My voice comes out sleepy and confused.Once I blink twice, I realize what I said.Home used to be a place in Huntington Point.
He bought a house for us.It was our sanctuary, but after what happened, I never went back to it.Why is it I expected him to take me there?And maybe this is for the best.I don’t need those memories haunting us while we try to find some kind of closure between us.
San turns toward the small window before saying, “My cottage is a more neutral space.”
The landing is a whisper-soft sigh, a gentle brush against the earth that doesn’t disturb the strange peace between us.
The moment the engines are off, and the door opens, the essence of Luna Harbor takes over.The air is heavy with the rich perfume of lavender, the silence punctuated by distant birds welcoming the day with their awakening melodies.
Stepping off the plane, Sanford and I fall into step, the gravel crunching beneath our shoes.Not a word is spoken as I trail behind him, leaving the lavender farm behind and entering the heart of the town.The house is farther than I had anticipated, nestled near a tattoo parlor and a bakery.
The place is a charming cottage, its timber walls the color of a summer storm.This is a sanctuary millions of miles away from the complications of the outside world.
Sanford hands me the book, a quiet exchange as he strides ahead, his silhouette etched against the growing light.Tapping a code, he grasps the handle, his shoulders tense with unspoken weight.
Yet, when he turns to look at me, his eyes hold a stark challenge.This is a crossroad, isn’t it?
