Justice was the only thing that had gotten him through five years in prison. At first, wanting justice for his wife, and then, wanting it for himself.
Somewhere, in all of that, wanting justice had twisted into wanting revenge, but in his case it amounted to more or less the same. And he would not bring Faith into that world.
She stood there, a beacon of all he could not have. And still he wanted her. With all of him. With his every breath.
But he knew he could not have her.
Knew that he couldn’t take what she would so freely give, because she had no idea what the repercussions would be.
He knew what it was to live in captivity.
And he would not wish the same on her.
He had to let her go.
“No,” he said. “I don’t love you.”
“You don’t love me?” The question was almost skeptical, and he certainly hadn’t cowed her.
He had to make her understand what he was.
“No.”
It was easy to say the word, because what was love? What did it mean? What did it mean beyond violence and betrayal, broken vows and everything else that had happened in his life? He had no evidence that love was real. That there was any value in it. And the closest he had ever come to believing was seeing Faith’s bright, hopeful eyes as she looked up at him.
And he knew he didn’t deserve that version of love.
No. If there was love, real love, and it was that pure, it didn’t belong with him.
Faith should give that love to someone who deserved it. A man who had earned the right to have those eyes look at him like he was a man who actually had the hope of becoming new, better.
Levi was not that man.
“I can’t love you. You or anyone.”
“That isn’t true. You have loved me for weeks now. In your every action, your every touch.”
“I haven’t.”
“Levi...” She pressed her hand to his chest and he wanted to hold it there. “You changed me. How can you look at me and say that what we have isn’t love?”
He moved her hand away. And took a step back.
“If there is love in this whole godforsaken world, little girl, it isn’t for me. You’ll go on and you’ll find a man who’s capable of it. Me? I’ve chosen vengeance. And maybe you’re right. Maybe there is another path I could walk on, but I’m not willing to do it.”
She stared at him, and suddenly, a deep understanding filled her brown eyes. He was the one who felt naked now, though he was dressed and she was not. He felt like she could see him, straight to his soul, maybe deeper, even, than he had ever looked inside himself.
It was terrifying to be known like that.
The knowledge in Faith’s eyes was deep and terrible. He wanted to turn away from it. Standing there, feeling like she was staring into the darkness in him, was a horror he had never experienced before.
“The bird is freedom. That’s what it means,” she said suddenly, like the sun had just risen and she could see clearly for the first time. She turned away from him, grabbing her sketchbook off the bed and holding it up in front of his face. “Look at this,” she said. “I have the real plans on my computer, but look at these.”
He flipped through the journal, until he found exactly what she was talking about. And he knew. The moment he saw it. He didn’t need her to tell him.
It was a drawing of a house. An aerial view. And the way it was laid out it looked like folded wings. It wasn’t shaped like a bird, not in the literal sense, but he felt it. Exactly what she had intended him to feel.
“I knew it was important to you, but I didn’t know why. Freedom, Levi. You put it on your body, but you haven’t accepted it with your soul.”
