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“It’s for making a change.”
The word hangs in the air, vibrating like a bell.
It’s what I’ve been saying to Jude for months,We need a change, we need a change…and it’s what he said back to me to convince me to pack up our shit and move out here:We need a change, a fresh start…
I broke up with Gideon, sold everything that wasn’t tied down, and here I am, all the way across the country, but I’m still having nightmares worse than ever. I still feel that red noise, that pressure against my ears, constant stress.
Wherever you go…you’re still your own damn self.
“What does it change?” I say to Dane.
He looks at me with his head cocked like a raptor, barely blinking.
“Depends. What do you want to change?”
“I don’t know…” I run both hands through my hair, grabbing at the roots in frustration. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Dane hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. His three words are a surgeon’s blade, cutting through the bullshit.
He stands there in the shadowy light, deeply calm. He played me like a puppet a minute ago. The only time I’ve seen him even slightly flustered was when I cut my leg.
I’m envious.
I wish I could be calm and deliberate.
I wish people were intimidated by me, instead of stomping all over me every chance they get.
I wish my house were clean and my bills were paid and I didn’t feel this perpetual sense of fear, having no idea what will happen to me later today, let alone tomorrow or next week…
My heart is hammering like I’m about to make a leap.
But my voice comes out in a whisper.
“You’re right…I’m not in control of my life. And it’s making me miserable.”
It feels so heavy to say it out loud.
My body seems to sink into the floor, and the sinking never stops.
“I work so hard. But the hours slip away, and when it’s bedtime, the list of things I was supposed to do is bigger than ever. It’s like a mountain of marbles, and I take off five, but ten more pile on top. And the whole thing’s getting wobbly, like it’s about to crumble…”
Even saying the words out loud makes my anxiety rise and my hands shake. I have the horrible feeling I might cry in front of Dane, and that can’t happen because I’ve already embarrassed myself enough.
But I can’t seem to stop.
“I’m starting to think it must be me. I must be the problem because no matter what I do, it doesn’t get better…”
It’s all pouring out. I haven’t had anybody to talk to in so long. I couldn’t trust Gideon, and there’s only so much I can say to Jude when I’m trying to protect him from the trainwreck of our lives.
Dane feels safebecausehe’s a stranger. Whatever I say to him will disappear in a matter of months when I sell Blackleaf and move again.
Yet we have this intimacy between us, because of the cut on my leg, his hands on my body, the stolen kisses, and those strange, electric moments where it feels like he’s talking to the deepest part of me and I’m speaking to the realest part of him.
It’s like I can tell him anything and it won’t matter—even the most painful things.
I should have been able to talk to Gideon like this. But I never felt like I could.
