And, even if she doesn’t come today, I’ll be here tomorrow and all the tomorrows I have after that. I cannot imagine a world in which these feelings for her would fade, or allow me to give up hope that someday, she’ll walk down those jagged steps and put me out of my misery.
And I intend to earn her trust, her forgiveness, and her heart all over again, if she’ll let me.
I need to tell her all of that.
A twig snaps in the distance, and I sit up urgently, looking all around for any trace of her. But I find nothing. I sit, my legs stretched out in front of me and leaning back onto my palms, as I watch the trees bend to the wind. I count the calls of the nearby loons until I reach twenty. I check my phone a dozen times, minutes stretching like hours as I sit waiting, my heart in my hands.
The cicadas sing hymns to my misery. The mostly still lake laps gently against the dock, acting like a ticking clock. All the while, my mind races.
Then, a lantern appears at the top of the hill. And the golden silhouette of myrusalkacomes into my vision. She’s somehow even more hauntingly beautiful than the first time I saw her, now having gone from siren to savior.
I stand to attention, watching her carefully descend each step.
“When I thought of torturing you a little bit and making you wait,” she says, reaching the last step as I move toward her without thought, “Ididforget how scary the steps are in the—”
Her words end when I wrap her in my arms, lifting her up off the ground. “You came.”
“I did.”
“I amsosorry, Prue.”
She relaxes into my arms, holding the lantern out to the side as her other arm wraps around my shoulders. “I know,” she tells me softly. “I know you are.”
“I was an idiot.”
“Big time.”
“The biggest of all time,” I agree, lowering her to stand gently. I reach for her free hand and take it in mine. “I didn’t think it through. I didn’t…I wanted your dad to like me and…” I shakemyself. “I’ve been sitting here for hours thinking of what I need to say and now you’re here and my mind is blank but, fuck, Prue, I was a complete idiot and you, you’re perfect and I don’t deserve it but—”
“Milo, we’ve got time,” she says, smiling softly at me. “Take a breath.”
I do, inhaling for a long second as I admire the way her hair falls off her shoulder, and exhaling as I thank the breath passing out of my lungs and all that surrounds it that she’s going to give me one more shot.
“Thank you for coming,” I say, moving my hand to my chest before dropping it to my side. “Fuck, I really was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”
“Then what?” she asks, tilting her head. “What would you have done?”
“I would’ve come back tomorrow.”
She smirks. “You’d do that?”
“I’d doanything,” I confess. “Anything,” I repeat, squeezing her hand in mine, as if to check that she’s real. I’m lost in her eyes, forgetting the cleverly constructed apology I’d attempted to script last night and today. “I’m sorry, Prue. I should have told you. I should have told you so many things. If I could go back and fix it, I would. Even if Tom ended up hating me. Even if it changed everything…I’d make it right if I could.”
She nods cautiously, her warm eyes not leaving mine for a second. I thank her, silently, for that. For the reassurance in her gaze.
“And I know I’m a work in progress. I know that I’ve got so much to learn and fix and figure out and, fuck, I can be a real dumbass,clearly.I know that you could do a whole lot better but, Prue, I’m being selfish anyway. I’m asking if you’d settle for me. If you’d have me, foolish, inexperienced heart and all.”
Prue laughs, reaching up to brush my cheek with her hand. “Milo…” She shakes her head, smiling widely. “We are bothfarfrom perfect. We both hide. We both run. We both have a lot of learning to do…But there’s no one else I’d rather learn with.”
“Really?” I ask, hope flooding my voice.
“Really,” she says, setting the lantern down beside her.
“Can you forgive me?”
“I can. Of course I can.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
