My lips trembled. “We’re both so broken.”
“I know,” he muttered, his hand sliding to cup my cheek. I leaned into the warmth that was once my solace but had since become my vice. “And we can’t help each other. Not like this.”
I nodded, tears blurring my vision. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I heard the words he didn’t say.It’s mine. A sob slipped out of my lips at the silent acknowledgment of what had started this downward spiral.
And while I appreciated it—it was too late.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way.” I needed him to know that. I needed him to know that this was not an act of revenge, not me giving up. I had fought against this, fought to save us, fought to put together both of our broken pieces. But as long as I was focused on him,Iwas only breaking further. Grinding those shards of my heart into dust.
Malakai swept a thumb across my cheekbone, but he couldn’t catch the tears as quickly as they fell. “Me too.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“We’re only hurting each other more,” I whispered against his neck, lips brushing his skin.
“We’re no longer good for each other,” he exhaled into my hair, like now that we opened this door, we had to keep admitting what we’d denied for weeks. A knife sliced directly into my chest, twisting, shredding, incinerating with each truth.
“We’ll never heal together.” What had been broken between us had launched us down different paths, and I’d been too scared to accept that until tonight.
Still, reluctant to let him go, I wrapped a hand around his wrist.
Neither of us moved. Neither spoke. We held on to that moment for a bit longer, allowing the truths we’d spoken to settle. His other hand slid around my hip to the small of my back, pressing me closer to him. I placed my palm against his chest. His heart beat a rapid rhythm beneath my fingertips, and I wished I could soothe it.
No, I corrected.You must fix your own heart.
When he pulled back, I looked at him from beneath wet lashes. For a brief moment, it all passed before my eyes. Every long night spent tangled in each other’s arms in our clearing, the moon reflecting beside our North Star, each innocent laugh echoing from the first day we became friends to the last one when he walked away from me.
So many beautiful, effortless memories of devotion and tenderness buried within the folds of heartbreak. But just because something had once been worth fighting for didn’t mean it would be forever. And just because something ended didn’t mean it was never beautiful. We’d shared countless smiles and firsts, the purest bond bottled up into a rush, intoxicating and rich, cushioned from the world as we were.
It was for those moments—for the girl I used to be, who fell in love with the strong, kind-hearted boy—that I tilted my face up.
I pressed my lips to his softly.
He hesitated at first.
I thought he’d pull away, but when I pushed up onto my toes, he tangled his hand in my hair, tilting my head back to claim my mouth.His tongue swept across mine with urgency, as if we both knew we only had so much time left together before we had to face reality.
The whimper that slipped up my throat wasn’t passion—it was desperation. The need to have him one last time. My hands fisted in his shirt as I pulled him toward the bed, fighting that voice in my head that said I shouldn’t do this, that it would only hurt more. But Malakai and I spoke better with our bodies than our words, and it was through that connection that I needed to say goodbye.
Malakai understood what I needed, moving his hands to my hips, guiding me. His fingers slipped to the side of my dress, but I beat him to it, ripping the seam. Buttons bounced across the floor with dainty echoes so reminiscent of shattering glass, I nearly flinched, a sob catching in my chest.
But the white fabric pooled around my ankles, silencing them.
I kicked it aside, crushing my mouth back to his. My hands reached greedily for his waistband, untucking his shirt, tearing through the buttons.
He lifted me atop the mattress. For a moment we only looked at each other. At our tear-streaked faces and the broken hearts we bore so feverishly.
I lifted a shaking hand, traced the Bind where it shone on his chest, and curled my fingers into a fist over the symbol, biting my swollen lips. Gently, Malakai gripped that hand, smoothing out my fingers and kissing them once.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
I dragged my hand through his hair, pulling him on top of me before the mourning lingering in his voice could overwhelm me. It killed me that we both suffered, but dammit, we weren’t good for each other. This loop of pain that had sucked us in had to stop.
We’d once burned brightly, but that flame had flickered out. And that was entirely natural—it was the cycle of life. Things died. Our love had died.
And that was okay.
I kissed him in response, telling him without words that he was right. It may not feel like it now, but we’d both be okay.
