“Those are awful examples.”
She takes a step closer. “Exactly. But that’s what we’ve got. Of course, you don’t love me and never will. When has love ever been good to us? What we have is better. What we have is stronger. I don’t know what to call it or if we can even give it a name, but I feel it. With every bit of my soul, I feel it. And I have to believe you feel it, too.”
My heart pounds, and my head swims at the power in her words. Is it possible that what she’s saying is true? That what we have goes beyond something as commonplace and everyday as love?
“I feel irrational and unfocused and every other thing that should not feel good, but…” I suck in a breath.
“It does.”
I nod. “It does. What I feel is wild and scary, and it makes me think you’re not safe around me. It makes me feel like, at any moment, I could lose my mind and do something horrific.”
“It feels like a risk, and yet you’ve done nothing but care for me. You saved my life, you nursed me back to health, you’ve given me shelter and clothes and food and money, and, my God, Alexander, by sharing your most shameful secret, you’ve given me your trust. You keep warning me away with words, but you’ve done nothing but care for me in your actions. Do you see it now? You say you don’t love me, but you’ve been loving me well since the day we met.”
I shake my head. “I’ve said some horrible things—”
“To protect me. You said horrible things because you wanted to protect me from what you feared you might do. Even in your cruelty, you’ve taken care of me.”
I scrub my face, my head spinning. “This is so messed up.”
“It is.” She draws closer. “It’s messy and probably unhealthy, but it’s us. It’s ours.” She tilts her head back to look up at me. “And I want to keep it. I want to try. Because even at our worst, I’ve felt more cherished and cared for than I have with anyone else in all my life.”
“I’m so sorry.” The shame over the things I said to her weighs heavy on my shoulders, and I fear I may crumble. “I was trying to push you away. You didn’t deserve the things I said to you.”
“Yeah, that sucked. If we do this, and you’re no longer trying to push me away, then I expect you’ll cut that shit out, right?”
“I’d rather have my tongue cut out than use it to hurt you.”
She smirks. “Let’s not get carried away.” She steps into my space and slides her hands around my middle to rest on my lower back. “I’m kind of fond of your tongue.”
That’s it. I crumble. I fold over her, around her, and drag her tiny body against mine. Now that I have her in my arms again, I fear I won’t have the strength to ever let her go. I need her that much, crave her that much. I’d die holding her just like this for as long as my heart kept beating.
Not love. Something even stronger.
“We need to talk about what happened with Brandy.”
My eyes pop open, and my grip on her tightens.
I should’ve known our reconciliation was too easy.
Twenty-Eight
Jordan
Every muscle in Alexander’s body is tensed to the point of shaking.
“It’s okay.” I rub his back and try to get him to relax, but the strain manages to string tighter. “I know you’re legally bound to secrecy, but I need to hear the story from you. Can you understand that?”
He nods once against my shoulder.
“You can trust me with all of it.” I take his hands and bring him to the woodstove. I toss animal pelts and blankets onto the floor and then bring him to sit down. I’m on my butt with my arms wrapped around my shins, and he’s on his hip, one leg outstretched, the other boot on the ground while he stares into the fire.
“You loved her,” I say by way of starting the conversation.
“I thought so.” He blinks and shakes his head. “But I recognize now what I felt was more like she was my possession. And the thought of losing her to someone else…”
I allow the silence to expand in hopes he’ll continue, but he doesn’t. “What was she saying to you in the car before… before you…” I can’t bring myself to say it. Can’t force my lips to utter the words.
“She was laughing. She thought it was funny that I actually believed she had feelings for me. Said she liked my money and the…” He shakes his head.
I lean to the side to get his eyes. “The what?”
“Sex.”
Oh. Ouch.
“I remember wanting to be quiet because the things she was saying made me so angry.” His eyes narrow, even though he’s staring at nothing but the fire. “She must’ve been drunk. She… kept calling me retarded. I didn’t know she’d taken off her seatbelt. She must’ve done it right before she started grabbing my face, saying, ‘look at me, look at me when I’m talking to you.’”
He drops his chin and shakes his head. I give him the time he needs, and eventually, he continues.
“My temper is bad now, but it was worse at twenty-three. She knew she was pushing my buttons, and I wonder if she wanted me to lose it and get in an accident just so she could collect a settlement. I don’t know any other reason why she wouldn’t stop. I begged her to stop.” He lifts his eyes back to the fire. “I saw the building ahead and didn’t give it a second thought. I just wanted it to stop.”
I reach out and put my hand over his clenched fist. “You didn’t mean for her to die.”
His haunted eyes lock on mine. “Doesn’t change the fact that I killed her.”
“It was an accident.”
He pulls his hand away from mine. “No, it wasn’t. I hit the wall on purpose.” He stands and walks to the kitchen, his back toward me. His hands brace on the table, and his head sinks low between his shoulders. “I’d like to think I’m not capable of doing anything like that ever again, but I honestly don’t know.”
“Is that why you haven’t driven since? You’re afraid of what you might do?”
His head dips by way of an answer.
The silence stretches between us, and I’m at a loss for how to comfort him. His demons are his own, and I couldn’t wrestle them for him, even if he’d let me.
“You look like her.” His deep, ominous tone raises goosebumps on my skin. “I couldn’t bear to look at you when I first brought you here.” His shoulders seem to swell under his sweater. “Every time you opened your mouth, I expected to hear her voice.”
That explains why he hated my questions, refused to talk or engage in conversation, and avoided me other than to nurse me back to health.
A life for a life.
Did he save me as a way of paying penance for what happened to Brandy?
“You wouldn’t stop talking, and eventually, I found myself longing to hear you speak. You made me feel… lighter, somehow.”
“Do you still see her when you look at me?” Because if so, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to make this work. I can’t represent the ghost of his biggest regret.