I felt my throat clog again. “You can’t know that, Ethan. You don't know how the story will unfold, or how it will end.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve known Karson for an eternity, and it always ends in pain, or worse, with him. He—” He stopped on the cusp of whatever it was he was about to say.
“He what, Ethan?” I demanded, “what?”
Frustrated, he shook his head and ran his hand roughly through his hair. “You have to let him go, for your own sake.”
“What do you know that you’re not telling me?”
“There are some things that are best left unspoken.”
I snorted. “To protect me, right? You give me half-truths, or nothing at all. You both keep things hidden from me, even now I see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. But it doesn’t matterbecause I know how I feel. How he makes me feel.” I stopped, appalled by the tremor in my voice.
“And how is he making you feel, Amy?” he said, suddenly angry. “He won’t commit but won’t let go either, will he? How does that make you feel, exactly?”
Like I’m broken.
“I can't . . . I can't accept it’s over. Not like this, not over nothing . . . I—” I stopped what I was about to say—that I love him, but I couldn’t draw it from my mouth. I didn’t need to, he read my mind.
“I know, I know,” he said, his voice both soft and frustrated. “You can turn down the leaf on your suffering, wait in hope, but even then, you will be forever marked, one way or the other. If you pursue it, it can only end in misery. Surely it’s better to let it go and look for another novel later on.”
I continued to stare out of the window, regaining my unravelled composure. After a long moment I said, “I’d rather be marked forever, than to have never opened this book at all.”
We spoke no more words to each other that night.
Half an hour later I stood at the window in my room and stared out at the darkness. The clouds hung like a firestorm above, not even the moon had managed to escape their gloom tonight. The rain began to tap on the window. I listened to the rhythmic sound and watched it land and streak down in tiny threads like dreams; visible, but just out of reach.
You have to let him go, Amy.
Intellectually, I knew Ethan was right. If Karson couldn’t commit then, by decree, I had no choice but to release myself from the torment. Emotionally, I didn’t know if I could. I closed my eyes, and I could see him standing behind me, his dark hair tousled forward, his hazel eyes swollen into a darkened pool of magnetic desire. Air whispered over my neck, my skin rose as if it were whispers of his breath against my ear. He stretched hisarms out and wrapped them around my heart, cocooning me, like he did by the stream. I stood perfectly still, mesmerized by the memory of his touch. Even the tapping of the rain ceased to exist. For a moment, one exquisite moment, he was with me again.
The hoot of an owl dragged the sensation away and reluctantly I opened my eyes. The rain quivered down the window like tears. I closed my eyes and tried to bring him back. Nothing came but emptiness. I squeezed my eyes, hands, and jaw so tight my teeth ached; searching, sifting through the hippocampus for that moment, but it was gone, and I was left exhausted by loss.
The thought of him sharing a bed with Rebecca tore glass through my heart. I turned toward my own bed, usually a place of comfort; suddenly it took on the air of emptiness and loneliness of a desolate ship, marooned and abandoned by sailors long ago. If I were to lay down on it, the hollow expanse threatened to amplify and consume my soul, and I felt as if I would be lost in a lonely abyss forever. Instead I went to the recliner I would often read in by the window. I curled my feet up and squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears that sat behind them to stay put. I’d deal with the pain tomorrow. I fell into an alcohol-induced sleep, listening to the comforting sounds of the rain pounding on the roof.
I dreamed of him, of course.
Chapter 69
Snapped Like a Twig
Ididn’t deal with Karson the next day, or the one after that, or even the one after that. I kept it stubbornly buried deep in the recesses of my mind. Instead, I ran high into the mountains. I was desperately trying to outrun the jagged claws that tugged against my soul; twisting, pulling, tearing—and still the void, like the depths of a bottomless cave, remained.
I’d lose my temper at the drop of a hat. Many drawers were slammed, things thrown across the room; both telekinetically and physically. Dahlia suspended training for the time being, there wasn’t much else she could teach me anyway, and there seemed to be no immediate threat, although Wolf remained. At least I had that respite.
Ethan left me to my own devices, he didn’t comment at the slam of doors or the muttered swearing. I did day shifts only at the bar. Karson wasn’t there. I didn’t even know if he was still in town. Ethan didn’t speak about him, and I didn’t ask. Tom had sent flowers, along with a long, scrawled apology. I threw them straight in the bin. That was my life for the next week and a half. It didn’t get any easier.
I’d worked the day shift at the bar the day before and had left my phone behind. I didn’t use it much, but I always took it onmy runs into the mountains just in case I rolled my ankle or took a wrong turn, or some other unforeseen event occurred. It was only midday, if Karson was in town, he wouldn’t be in the bar.
I pushed the door open and stepped into the dim light. I was caught completely off guard; standing at the end of the bar was Karson, with the girl I remembered passing Ethan and I as we left the bar the other night. In hindsight, there was something about her that jolted my senses but, wrapped in my own pain, it had been a brief flicker. She’d smiled at Ethan, and I’d heard Georgie’s high-pitched squeals of delight calling her name.
The girl was smiling up at Karson with a drink in her hand, and he was smiling back at her. There was something about their body language, the way they leaned into each other, the way they held eye contact; the soft excited gush that illuminated from her eyes no less adoring than the look of a loving fan at a rock concert. I knew that look, I’d it seen it broadcasted in the eyes of many mere mortals when they looked at him, as sure as I knew it had been transmitted across my own face. But there was more than that, there was a comfort, a familiarity, suggestive of more than just a one-night stand. I felt as if someone had knocked my feet out from under me, rammed a fist into my gut, and squeezed my heart and lungs so tight I couldn’t breathe. He glanced up. Our eyes locked.
“Amelia.” His voice was a desert, as barren as his face. Not even a grain of sand dared to rise above that platform of desolate cold emptiness.
I willed the tears to remain hidden, my face to remain blank.
“Karson.” My voice came out as blank as his.
