What a shit show.
“And how do you really feel?” Sloan asks again, her hand laying over mine on the rocks we’re sitting on, tingles spreading in its wake.
I could feel her touch me while she did it. And even though it should make me happy, it made the longing for her even worse.
I turn to Sloan, trying to find words that don’t come.
How do I tell her how much this has fucked me up?
The frustration, the helplessness, the sheer incredulity of finding your life has slipped through your fingers like sand? If I were dead, at least I would know my life ended. My time did come. Now, it feels like I just missed out on the years I had.
It’s a theft of time, of experiences, of life. Seven years gone, just like that.
Poof.
The wind picks up, ruffling Sloan’s and Hunter’s hair, reminding me of how different I am. I run a hand through mine, almost expecting it to fall in place as it used to, but it doesn’t.
Nothing does anymore.
The irony isn’t lost on me—the loudest of the bunch, always with a quick comeback, now rendered silent by my own bizarre reality. It’s like a cruel joke, and I’m the punchline.
But there’s also a flicker of something else—determination, maybe? A resolve not to let this be the end of my story. I look at Sloan, her eyes full of a pain that mirrors my own, and I feel a surge of something like hope.
Maybe, just maybe, we can figure this out.
Maybe there’s a way.
But I just shake my head at her, not in the mood or the ability to talk right now.
I feel too much.
She nods as if understanding, and we all look back out at the ocean as the sunset paints the sky with hues of gold and orange. I’m lost in the beauty of the moment, yet my heart aches with apang of longing. This used to be my drug, chasing the light and the stars, capturing every subtle change of color with my camera. It’s a beautiful sunset, and I know the sky will burn in a few minutes.
Watching how nature changes, ensnaring every little color change just to take pictures that make people gasp and feel, being the only one to witness such beauty but freezing it in time for others to admire, I miss that.
I’d run over to the beach when I saw the sky turning pretty to set up my tripod and camera, and I would forget everything else for the next few minutes because it’s a fleeting feeling to witness a sunset like this. It’s magic that’s only there for a short time, when the clouds are hit just right by the sinking sun.
You have to catch the perfect moment and, if you’re lucky, the perfect subject—a foreground that complements the magic in the sky. It’s a blend of luck, skill, and passion.
I fucking loved it.
“I still see you in every sunset, in every starry night,” Hunter whispers, and my head turns to him, but his gaze is on the horizon. “Every time the sky is painted in pretty colors, I hear your laughter and feel your joy. I feel a surge of excitement for you. And when I’m home and see the sky burning through the window, I glance at the front door, expecting you to rush past me with your gear, yelling that you need to catch it.” He breathes out a small laugh, but there are tears in his eyes. “It feels like the sky is torturing me,” he continues, a tear escaping his eyelid and running down his cheek while his voice almost breaks. “When it rains, I’m back in those waves, fighting for breath. When the sun shines, it’s Jessie smiling down on me. And when it’s a beautiful sunset or a starry night, I see you. The only reprieve is the cloudy, overcast days. But even then, I find myself missing the sun and the colors, missing you guys.”
Sloan’s arm wraps around Hunter, offering comfort, while her other hand remains gently over mine.
I felt like crying before, but now I feel wrecked.
“Hunt,” I whisper, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling over. The pain of seeing him like this and knowing what he’s been through without me, is almost too much to bear.
“I talk to you so much when I’m around your stuff, when I see something that reminds me of you. When I hear a joke and know you would have told it better.” His voice cracks with emotion, each word a testament to the bond we shared.
“I know, and I always answer you, Hunt,” I reply softly, wishing more than anything that he could hear me. That he could know I never really left him.
Sloan intertwines her fingers with Hunter’s and turns her other hand for me, letting me set my hand in hers. It’s as if she heard my thoughts, felt my longing because she starts speaking what I can’t say aloud. “He answers you, Hunter. You just can’t hear it.”
Hunter turns to look where I sit, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though he can see me. “I know this all is so messed up, and I should have been there more. I should have never lost hope for you. I’m so sorry. I’m a coward. I just couldn’t keep hurting myself with it.”
I nod quickly, even though I know he can’t see it.
