My face burned as I stroked a well-worn note sitting in the middle of the pile.
Grief is like snow…
I never wanted him to know I kept it.
“I asked you to destroy that,” he said.
I nodded.
“But you were carrying it on you.”
I said nothing, my eyes cast down.
His voice grew stern. “Look at me, Sophia.”
The silence grated while he waited for me to oblige. Gathering every shred of courage, I lifted my chin, ready to argue.
“Do you always carry it with you?” he asked with deceptive nonchalance.
“Yes.”
A pained, intense blue flared in his eyes. “Why?”
The seconds slipped away while we stared at each other, and I swallowed down my chagrin. “I think I just…wanted you close to me.”
He cupped my cheek, searching my face. “I’m right here.”
“Rightnow,” I said, hating the sudden sting in my eyes. “But you aren’t, really. You’re nowhere. And everywhere.”
He wiped away the tears, studying me for several long, agonizing moments. His knuckles trailed down my throat. “I can’t make that uncertainty go away,” he murmured, the words tortured, his inability to give me what I wanted tormenting him.
Against my better judgement, my hands slid up his chest and anchored around his neck. “Just stay with me. It’s all I want.”
Again, the words slipped from his lips: “I will. Until I die.”
“That’s not good enough,” I whispered.
His forehead rested against mine. “It’s all I have.”
We stayed like that for a long time, but eventually, he pulled back like always, guiding me to the bed where he liked me best.
“I can’t stay tonight,” he said, once I was tucked under the covers.
I froze, searching his expression but finding no clues. “Why not?”
“Mission.”
I eased against the pillow, but every muscle had grown taut. “Dangerous?”
He shot me that familiarare-you-an-idiotface.
I grabbed his wrist, trying to tug him back to me. “No. Stay.”
He gave me a few inches, but didn’t relent. “I’ll come back.”
The tears reappeared. “You don’t know that.”
His hands landed on either side of me. He leaned close enough to kiss me, but he didn’t. “I will come back.”
