“Almost five months now, I think.”
Fuck.
Here I was moping about something that happened years ago, and she just said goodbye to her mom a few months ago. Regret burned up my insides.
“Shit, Arina, I’m sorry. I feel like an asshole for bringing all this up,” I said, wishing I could take it all back.
“Seriously, don’t be.” She wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “My mom was sick—super fucking sick. Of course, I miss her like crazy, but I hated watching her suffer. I’d like to think she’s proud of me, but I don’t know. I’ve done some crazy shit since she died.”
“I bet she is.” I nodded adamantly. “In fact, I know she is.”
She was doing her best to hold back tears, but they kept slipping down her cheeks. Her reply came out as a whisper, barely audible. “How do you know?”
“Because I’m proud of you.” I reached over and wiped one of her tears away with my thumb. “I’m constantly impressed by your bravery, the way you never back down from a challenge. You might not have had a plan to begin with, but you figured things out,” I said, putting on my most reassuring smile for her. “And if I can see all that after only knowing you for a little while, someone who’s known you your whole life would be evenmore impressed than I am. She knows everything you’ve had to overcome, all the fears you’ve had to conquer. There’s no way she isn’t insanely proud.”
Arina’s bottom lip wobbled, and I finally broke, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her into my chest. I rested my chin on top of her head, blinking away the sting at the corners of my eyes and held her close.
“I needed to hear that,” she whispered, nuzzling into my chest.
I smiled into her hair, closing my eyes. “I’ll tell you as often as you need to hear it.”
“Your mom would be very proud of you, too, you know?” she said, pulling away to look me in the eye. “Knowing she raised such an incredible human. Daze, she’d be so proud.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. My eyes prickled until tears spilled over, and I looked away, not wanting her to see me cry. I hadn’t cried in so long, possibly years, that it felt foreign.
Despite all the shit Night had put me through, the number of times he ignored me and pretended like I wasn’t there, I’d never shed a single tear over him. It hurt, sure, but not enough to break me.
But being here with Arina, finally feeling seen and understood after so long, had emotions crashing into me like waves, and I wasn’t sure how to handle them.
So, instead of trying to decipher them or apologize for breaking down, I pulled her to me again and settled into the comfort of her company.
And, for a moment, for the first time since we arrived in Santa Fe, I was completely at peace.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ARINA
I had no idea how long we sat there on the trapeze platform, and I didn’t care. We could have stayed there until the troupe showed up in the morning to set up.
The moment was too perfect to ruin.
Even though I shed some tears over missing my mom, the fact that Daze understood was comforting. I hated that he went through the same thing—it wasn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy—but it was nice not feeling so alone.
His thumb moved methodically back and forth along my arm, and I drew small circles with my finger on his thigh. There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t want to interrupt our peace.
It was Daze who finally broke the silence.
“I didn’t drag you up here to talk about heavy shit,” he said, taking one of my hands in his and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “It’s just… so easy to talk to you. I don’t know why, but it feels like I can tell you anything.”
“You can.”
Heat prickled over my cheeks.
I felt the same way… almost. I’d tell him as much as I could without revealing my designation or that I was possibly—probably—a murderer. Those things were too dangerous to tell anyone, even Daze.
“What did you bring me up here for?” I finally asked after a long beat of silence. “Why not just sit outside the tour bus and stare at the stars or something?”
Not that I was complaining. Anywhere with Daze was better than anywhere without him.
