Dante’s frown deepened, and a crease formed between his slanted brows as he closed his eyes and shook his head. “I hate that you’ve been made to feel that way. You haven’t done anything wrong by struggling with whatever you’re feeling. Those who belittle you for the hard moments don’t understand.”
“No,” I agreed quietly. “They don’t understand.”
The gentle breeze and rustling of leaves was the only sound for a time. My gaze stayed on our overlapped hands while his thumb ever so softly moved along the top of my hand. Again, his statement was in stark contrast to everything I’d heard from others all my life.
To most, I was fine. There was no bruise, no cut across my skin, no broken bone to cry about. I had a roof over my head and food on the table, so I had no right to complain. So many others had nothing, so my internal struggle was just me being overdramatic or attention-seeking.
I was ashamed of constantly feeling weighed down by despair with no definable cause, so I tucked those emotions away, bottling them up while donning my smiling mask. There was safety in keeping my dark thoughts to myself, but … it was also suffocating. I stuffed down the self-loathing, self-doubt, and sorrow so much that sometimes, all I could do was choke alone.
I tipped my head back and studied the thousands of glittering stars in the inky sky. “Sometimes I wishIdidn’tunderstand what it means to feel this way. I envy people who aren’t constantly at war with their own being, questioning their worthiness, their value to others, their very existence and if it’s a waste of space. I envy those who don’t hunger to die at every dark turn.”
The revelation spilling from my mouth made my cheeks heat. I ducked my head, hoping my hair hid my flaming face from Dante. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I shouldn’t say something so ugly on what’s supposed to be a happy day in such a happy place.”
I waited on his reprimand for having such a dark and twisted way of thinking. I waited for the pinpricks of guilt to lance at my insides as he listed every reason why I was a terrible person for having such wicked thoughts. I waited for him to tell me that I should stay silent about my troubles for the sake of other people’s comfortability.
“I can relate.”
My eyes widened as I stared over the cliff edge at the darkness below. Slowly, I looked over and found Dante staring down beneath our feet, too. His brow was furrowed ever so slightly, and his gaze seemed as far away as the ground beneath our hanging feet.
“I’ve never talked about this,” he began slowly, a rough and hesitant edge to his voice. “I mean, I didn’t even know it was somethingtotalk about. Not really. I constantly question myself, especially the longer life goes on. I’ve struggled, now so more than ever, with what I am and what that means.”
What he was and what that means. I figured he was referring to his celebrity status, or more specifically, people’s idolization of him. Dante was exceptionally popular among the Sinners, and he’d no doubt felt a tremendous amount of pressure with that outpouring of love, lust, and attention. I couldn’t even imagine that kind of power and influence and what that did to a person—the questions it would create, the relationships it would destroy and uplift, the lines drawn between the celebrity and the normal person residing in the same skin.
“But I don’t hunger for death. How can I when I already feel dead inside?” he continued, his words almost streaming out like a river unable to be stopped. His scruffy chin tipped up until he now stared at the distant stars with a somber whisper of a smile. “No. I long for what it means to bealive. To yearn for something and have that same passion in return. To experience the goodness in the world and not only the sin. To be seen as more than a thing to be used.”
He looked back at our joined hands. “I think that’s why I’ve always liked reading. If the author does it right, I get tofeelfor a time. I can experience what it means to be human, to be a man with a soul.” His dark eyes flicked up to hold mine. “That’s what your books do to me.”
The air was ripped from my lungs alongside the cold wind. I was choking for an all new reason now, but this one wasn’t sad, bitter, or dangerous. This one was joyous, warm, and safe. This tightness in my chest didn’t threaten to kill me but promised me a reason to keep going.
My dream was to be a full-time author, but even more than that, at the heart of that dream was a goal to reach people. I wanted my stories, my words, to find those who struggled and give them a place to rest. I wanted to provide a space for the weary to lay down their fight and just exist in a place away from their pain. I wanted to give them comfort, safety, and validation in their experiences. I wanted to givethema dream through my characters and stories.
Dante’s confession wasn’t just some stroke to my pride and ego as a hopeful author. His admission was the oxygen I breathed, the pump that beat my heart, the life that fed my very being. His words were why I kept fighting.
Dante’s eyes softened as he reached out to gently run his fingers through the strands of hair framing my face. The tips brushed featherlight along my cheek and jaw as they went. “It’s not just your hair and eyes that give your nickname meaning. You’remystar. Your words, your soul in its bound state, lights up my dark world. So stay here, okay? I need your light. I need you.”
I breathed in deeply as he moved closer to press his forehead to mine. Suddenly, it felt like the entire world funneled into this tiny space between his face and mine. All that mattered was within the bubble we’d created right here in each other’s arms.
He called me his star, which could only meanhewas my night sky. He was the vast, beautiful darkness that gave me the space to shine my light where others had tried to smother it.
I went to tell him this, to give life to this sudden rush of brilliant emotion engulfing me, but the words were tangled up in that awe. They wouldn’t come, no matter how much I wanted them to. All I could do was lean into him and squeeze his hands in mine. As always, the silence that followed wasn’t painful or uncomfortable. The sound of shared stillness was our own special kind of music, a language and story only we could understand.
Dante swallowed hard, and his lips seemed to drift closer. “Serenity, I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” I asked softly, tilting my head closer to his.
The faintest graze of his mouth against mine lit the fuse on the fireworks inside of me, but before that explosion could fully light, he slowly pulled away to look at me. His rich eyes held mine. I wasn’t sure what he searched for. It almost looked like he was trying to build up confidence for something that ate away at him.
Before I could open my mouth to tell him that he could share whatever was on his mind, he averted his gaze and put on a strained smile. “I forgot something in the car. I’ll be right back.”
I stared at him as he stood and walked back toward the trees we’d come through. Part of the buzzing high that had wrapped around me dimmed as I watched him go, wondering if he was okay. I had no idea what sort of thing he needed to tell me, and normally, I’d be an anxious mess, wondering what the hell that could mean. But instead of internalized worries, I wondered about him and what was happening inhismind.
A shift in the ground beneath me drew my attention away from the shadows of the dark trees where Dante had slipped through. My heart lurched as I whipped my head around and spotted cracks splintering the earth from under me. I gasped and tried to leap away, realizing with a jolt of terror that the ground was giving way. Before I could move, the ground shook hard and rumbled with a deafening boom as the dirt and rocks opened up to spill to the earth far below. My piercing scream was all that came as I plummeted over the cliff.
Chapter 23
Dante
SERENITY’S HORRIFIED SHRIEK SANK INTO my chest like a hot knife. The sound of falling rock and the rumble of shifting earth fired a burst of fear through me. I whipped around and peered through the darkness, thankful as Hell for my ability to see clearly through the dark. A pale hand flailing for the safety of solid ground was all I saw as Serenity fell over the cliff.
