He shakes his head. His hands move.
Fallen Saints.
“I have to fix this.” I push to my feet, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “I have to go.”
I am going with you,he signs.
No,I sign back.
“If they find you, they will pin everything on you,” I say. “Axel died that night. Mina still keeps that case open.”
He shakes his head. His hands tremble.
Don’t leave me.
“I’m not leaving you, Judas.” I step closer. “I just have to go home and stop this before our faces are everywhere. If this crosses the state lines, we will never be invisible.”
He nods, closing the space between us.
Promise me you will be back tonight,he signs.
I promise,I sign back.
Every promise I make to him feels like a line I carve into myself. Like I knew I might not be able to keep it, yet I still keep on going. He is everything I ever wanted. Of course, I wanted to come back.
He pulls me in, his arms turn tight around me, his forehead pressed to mine. The TV keeps talking behind us.
“The main suspect is Judas Harrington, presumed dead for two years. Also suspected in the murder of Axel Smith. Police ask the public to report any sightings immediately.”
“Fuck,” he says.
“You stay here.” I press my palm to his chest. “I will fix this.”
I rush toward the bedroom. I grab a shirt from the closet and pull it over my head as fast as I can, then I step into my jeans. Ilose my balance for a second as I shove my sneakers on, my eyes finding him in the doorway.
I move toward the front door, then turn back. He is still standing there. Before my hand even touches the doorknob, I rush back into his arms. My hands clap against his shoulders as I lift onto my tiptoes.
“I promise we will fix this.”
He nods.
I press my hands to his, then let go.
I move back towards the door, and I open it.
My pink bike was parked in front. I rush to it, grab the helmet from the handlebars, and drop onto the seat. I pull the helmet down and look at him through the visor.
He stands in the doorway in gray sweatpants with his arms crossed.
I promise I am coming back, Judas.
I twist the throttle.
I want us. I want us to be us, without anyone else’s ghosts breathing down our necks.
TWENTY
RUIN
