Page 32 of What Burns Between

“You don’t understand how things work for me. I was born into this world, Rae. And that’s not your fault. I just…”He sighs.“I fucking love you, and it kills me not being able to touch you, to reassure myself you’re okay.”

There was a time when those words would stir warmth in my chest and swell hope through my veins. Now, I lie on the cool timber and feel myself slip further into numbness. Farther from the sharp thorns of reality.

“Rae?”

“I’m still here,” I mutter.

I don’t know where else to be.

I reach out and tap the End button, slipping my thumb to the side of the device to switch it to silent.

I’m not ready to give up yet, but I can’t fight anymore. I’ve got nothing left for the present moment. No ability to sleep. No desire to talk.

Just the hollow ache of a life so far from the ideal path that I don’t know if I can get back on track anymore.

Perhaps it’s time to create something new.

Something and someone.

12

DIGGER

The crackleof the fire is my companion, the rest of the residents tucked up for the night. I both love and loathe this part of the day the most: the peace and the solitude. The opportunity to work through my demons without interference.

I close my eyes tight and grind the heels of my hands into them, reclining lengthways on the sofa with a foot hanging over one arm, left leg bent at the knee to rest the other foot on the floor.

The night is the loudest—when my doubts and cynicisms take the spotlight.

I’m always second-rate, not quite where I want to be. Always wishing for more and hoping for less. So fucking torn on who I’ve become that I couldn’t lay down a five-year plan if you asked me to. Setting Rae up like this was a fucking selfish move, but what tears at my goddamn soul is that I know I don’t feel bad about it at all.

I like the way she looks at me. I like how it felt having her behind me on my bike.

And I saw a way to make that happen more often, so I spun a story about how it helps her and pitched it to the team.

And the fuckers hit it right out of the park.

Rae’s mine—as far as anyone outside the club is concerned. And I like that.

I just wish it were real.

A pop of sap opens my eyes, and I sigh as I pull myself to a seated position. Reaching across, I snag a piece of wood and toss it into the short flames, bringing the fire back to life. The nights are cooler now that winter creeps over the tall peaks bracketing Red River. It won’t be long, and the river will be an icy trickle running through a snow-capped vista. The bikes will quiet, tucked away until the roads are safer, and we’ll become hermits, allowing the town the picturesque Christmas it deserves without our sorry asses ruining the view.

It’s my darkest time of year. The apprehension at the mental struggle clutches talons around my throat.

The thought tickles the back of my mind: will this be the year I give in?

The creak of the stair rail draws my eye to the darkest corner of the room. I have nothing to hide, but these quiet nights are sacrosanct, and knowing I have a visitor spikes a frustration that settles heavily in my veins. I’ve lived here long enough to know exactly what that squeak means.

Our guest moves into the half-light, arms folded across herself.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really.” Rae moves to stand before the flames. “You haven’t even been to bed.”

“Observant of you.” I slide back onto the sofa cushions and throw an arm over my eyes.

The quiet hangs too long before she says, “First time for everything, I guess.”

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