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A burst of lightning strikes, bringing with it a gust of static-charged air, which raises the hairs on my arms.
Marcus stands on the porch, water dripping from his dark hair in rivulets that trail over the planes of his brows, nose, lips, and chin. His stormy gaze journeys up my bare legs to my pajama shorts and thin white tank top, before eventually landing on my face.
I watch his shoulders rise and fall steadily. He’s soaked to the bone with his shirt and jeans plastered to every contour of his body.
“What are you doing here?” I ask weakly.
His posture is rigid, like that of a marble statue when he says, “I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier.”
My spine straightens as I wind my arms around my middle. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Marcus. You don’t owe me anything.”
“No. I refuse to be added to the list of people who have done this to you, Heather.” Reaching for my crossed arms, he gives a gentle tug before taking my palm and flattening it over his rapidly beating heart. “You can close yourself off from the world if you want, but please, don’t close yourself off from me.”
My breaths turn shallow as more lightning skitters across the sky, electric and ominous. Water droplets slip through his hair, sporadically hitting my wrist, and I give in to my need to hear the rest with a gentle nod.
“Leah didn’t die from a drug overdose. She had an incredibly rare blood cancer that completely deteriorated the woman she was, all while the rest of the world decided how it actually happened.”
The brittle defenses I’d thrown up sway before shattering completely.
As if losing her wasn’t enough, I can’t begin to imagine the pain he must have experienced while watching her suffer.
“The experimental testing my dad opted her into was more than dangerous, but my parents had spent a fortune to get it started and the doctors gave us so much hope that it would actually work.”
The tips of my fingers tighten over his shirt as I brace myself for the rest.
“My parents signed their lives away to a debt they could never repay for a daughter they would never see again.” His voice hitches. “Mortie started using and drinking while Leah was dying in the hospital, and I was livid. I didn’t understand it, sometimes I still don’t, but I’m no better for abandoning them after she died.”
“But you didn’t. Look at everything you’ve done for them and your brother,” I whisper, but he shakes his head.
“For the last three years, I’ve isolated myself, keeping far away from them, only to be drug back to LA anytime he needed me to cover for him. But I wish I would have seen it sooner, you know? Because while Mortie suffers from his affliction, it’s me who’s lived the same unchanging year on repeat. Resentful, angry, and alone like you said. I just couldn’t tell you that before now.”
He lowers my hand, and the laugh he gives is soft, pathetic. “Then I come back to Topica Bay, and I see you filled with so much contempt for a man I didn’t even want to be. And you drove me mad with that smart mouth, mad with the simplest touch, absolutely fuckingmad, Heather, but you always felt right.”
I hold on to the doorframe to keep my legs from giving out.
“I finally have a purpose, and it’s here, in Augustine. I feel it in every fiber of my being, and I can’t help but think that’s what Leah was trying to show me all along. To stop hiding, to help Mortie instead of enabling him, and to embrace the life and happiness I desire.”
My mouth trembles when he reaches into his pocket and then carefully holds out his hand. “I made this for you.”
Grabbing the thin strip of leather, I bring it into the light and study the small wooden charm dangling from its center. The tiny horse’s mane, hooves, and tail are all delicately carved into soft blond wood, stained where each area dips to give it lifelike definition.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, clutching the necklace in a closed fist.
“This ache for you,” he mutters so close that his wet boots touch the ledge under my bare toes. “I’ll get over it if that’s what you want. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and it won’t last forever. I can shove it down far enough that the torment of my obsession can only reach me when I miss you enough to allow it.”
He swallows and takes a steadying breath. Then, with unfiltered certainty, he says, “But I’ll always allow it, and I won’t get lucky, and there will be no getting over you, because I love you.”
If I’m a thorn-ridden flower, then his words pop them off, one by one, until the very stem keeping me alive is bare.
I shake my head, shocked to my very core.
“I do. I fucking love you, and I don’t care if you don’t love me yet. I’ll just love you hard enough until you do, because we deserve this.”
When he tips my chin up, misery like I’ve never known pours tears down my cheeks. He’s offering me everything I’ve ever wanted, and still, it’s out of reach.
“Marcus.” A body-trembling sob beats at the back of my throat as I offer him a sad, tear-filled smile. “Even if I wanted to stay, we’re fresh out of tomorrows.”
His voice is gentle, almost fearful, when he asks, “What do you mean?”
