"You keep dancing with the devil... one day he's gonna follow you home." — Jedidiah, Sinners (2025)
FOUR YEARS AGO
Halloween Night
Ifind my way walking around the forest for a bit, only knowing that I’ve been walking now for about a half an hour. I just need to clear my mind. I'm trying to not berate myself for letting Deck get the way he has because I’ve just barely turned eighteen; he's not my responsibility. I can't possibly blame myself for the way my twenty-year old brother decides to live his life, but it's been eating at me because it’s not like him to act that way.
"Olivia? Are you okay?" I hear the notes of a familiar voice. Smooth, deep, andcomforting.
I don't realize I’m crying, and I definitely don't mean for anyone to catch me in a moment of vulnerability. Before I turn around, I wipe my face dry with the sleeve of my coat hoping to avoid concern.
"Trace?" I look up, not expecting to see him out here in the middle of nowhere. But then again, I am a bit relieved to see him because I realize that I am actually in the middle of nowhere.
"Shouldn't you be at the bonfire?" I ask, trying to avoid direct eye contact because of two things. One, I don't want him to see me like this, even though I know he would never judge me for it. Two, I don't know how to properly control myself when I do look at him. Because when our eyes meet, it feels like my soul catches on fire; an all-consuming feeling that renders me too weak to think about anything else.
"With the rest of those idiots?" He says playfully as he shakes his head. "I'll pass. Besides, I’ve been looking for you," he adds and though we've been doing the whole secret-meet-up thing for the past year now, I still feel that flutter of nerves in my core when he says things like this to me. Especially because he looks at me like he means it with his whole chest. And I believe it.
"Then why did you come up to the Pines?" I ask, purposefully avoiding his statement for no real reason other than the fact that we're alone right now, and god knows how far the next person is. And us alone is adangerous thing.
"The truth?" He steps in a bit closer to me, making me a bit conscious of the way my face might be blotchy from crying, but I don't move a muscle. "I’m the one who sent the invite for you." His whisper is like the moon greeting the stars for the night, settling into the depths of the midnight blues and giving the world a blanket of peace and serenity.
I missed his voice. It's been days since we've last seen each other and I’ve been secretly counting down the minutes until we'd see each other again.
"You did?" I ask, still not moving as he takes another step in.
"Yeah, I wanted to see you," he confesses, and it takes a lot for me to not surrender to the way he's making me feel right now. It's dark, and I can barely make out his gorgeous features but if he wanted to reach out and touch me, it would feel too secretive to resist.
"You know that this is not a good idea, Trace," I let my voice drop, though I know no one can hear us.
It's just us.
"I still wanted to see you," he breathes. “Besides, even if you decided not to come up this weekend, I would have found my way to you,” he says as he takes one final step in, closing the space that separates us and now, he's close enough to reach out and touch me. Which is exactly what he does.
"Sweetheart, why were you crying?" he asks as he lets his fingertips brush against my cheek.
I gasp, not wanting to have this conversation right now, especially since just being in the presence of Trace has kept my mind off of my fight with Deck for a few moments at least. But I know that if I don't talk to him about what's bothering me, he'll go find the answer on his own. And that usually means trouble where Trace is concerned.
"Deck and I got into an argument or fight or whatever," I say as nonchalantly as I can manage. "And you know what? I wasn't crying," I quip, attempting to change the tone of my mood and hopefully escape the feelings I carry in regard to my argument with Deck.
"Livie, I saw you." He lets his fingers fall gently down my face and over my shoulder, brushing away at the hair over my clavicle and setting it over my back. "Besides, love. You know it's okay to cry in front of me."
I shiver, but not because of the cold air that dances over my skin or because the snow is falling from the loured sky. It's just what Trace's touch does to me; his words make me feel so wrapped up with the warmth of safety. Like as long as he’s near, I’m protected from all of the bad things the world has to offer.
His fingers are now gently caressing the side of my neck, and I don't even realize that I tilt my head to the side just a sliver so that I can open up the space to allow him to keep up his fleeting, comforting movements. I love when he touches me, but it’s a danger I never allowed myself to enjoy fully. Because I like it too much and I’ve been terrified to get addicted; to have withdrawals when he leaves.
“I know he’s your brother and all, but I’ll kill him for making you cry on your birthday." He tells me in a calm and soothing voice, even though his words are meant to be a bit threatening.
Trace leans in and I feel my entire body break out into a chill, goosebumps spreading like wildfire.
“Happy birthday, flower,” he mumbles sweetly to me as he runs his finger over my cheek, and I gasp at his touch.
“Thank you,” I say to him, keeping my eyes closed, wanting to revel in the way he touches me. But before I think he might bring his lips to mine or touch them to the sensitive skin of my neck, he takes a step back and allows me to breathe.
“Do you wanna talk about what’s got you so upset?”
I suck in a lungful; cold air filling up my lungs before I let out a clear-minded exhale.
“It's just that he's letting himself go. He's not the same. It seems like for the last month he’s been drinking and doing drugs. And he's failing practically every class in school right now. All he has is football and he's about to lose that too. He hasn’t said anything to you, has he?"
