Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
How did you forgive someone for something you didn’t remember happening?
Chapter
Twenty
WINDER
My life was a series of one hard thing after another. Accepting my brother was more loved than I was. Taking the blame for my crew. Going to jail. Watching the girl I loved fall for my perfect brother. Mourning her death.
But nothing compared to what I had to do tonight, telling her no, when everything in my wildest dreams was finally coming true. Blaire was here, in front of me, on my lap, telling me things I had imagined over and over for the last decade. Her lips were on mine, and the feeling was so indescribable, it was like I left the atmosphere. Everything was so fucking right.
Until it wasn’t. My name on her mouth shocked me back to reality, because going any further with Blaire tonight wouldn’t have been right. She was high, not thinking clearly, for one. She was processing a lot of traumatic information, and having to come to terms with some big things.
If anything like that ever happened, I wanted it to be because she wanted to. I didn’t want to be a distraction from the pain. I wanted to be the cure.
I gripped the bathroom sink, expecting the cheap porcelain to shatter in my grip. I struggled to contain the beast inside, theone who demanded we go out there right this second, and claim what was rightfully ours.
But Blairewasn’trightfully mine. Because, it was a funny thing, loving someone for that long. Eventually, the love just became a part of who you were, no different than any other feature on your face.
Except it didn’t age, or sag with the years. It remained perfectly intact.
I loved Blaire enough that I was willing to let her be happy with Oliver. My brother had his issues, sure, and while I had my suspicions he only brought her around to make me jealous, she seemed to truly love him. Who would I be to upset her contentment? That wouldn’t be love.
So I watched from a distance. I loved from afar, knowing it would never be any more than unrequited. I loved her more than I loved myself, and that would never change. If she was happy, I’d smile, too. If she was sad, my heart would crack a little bit more.
I stared at my face in the mirror, at the lines that seemed to appear overnight, lately. I didn’t know what she saw in me, and after tonight, I wasn’t sure she would ever forgive me.
Cold water from the tap knocked some sense into me. I would be whoever Blaire needed me to be to heal. I just wasn’t sure if she knew what giving herself to me like that entailed. I took a deep breath, and opened the door, an apology ready to offer the beautiful woman in my bed.
Soft snores carried from my mattress. I stepped closer. Blaire lay with her mouth slightly open, fast asleep. She must have been exhausted, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. My heart ached over the idea she might have gone to sleep feeling rejected by me, but I’d rather her feel rejected than wake up in the morning filled with regret.
I didn’t know if I should climb into the bed next to her like she asked, or if I should sleep on the floor. I wanted to curl up next to her, but I knew the floor was where I should be.
I sighed, with one last look at her sleeping. She was too beautiful for words, too perfect for me. It was better this way.
On the bed, Blaire trembled. She shook so violently, the mattress shook with her.
“Help!” she screamed. “Someone, please help!” She thrashed, tangling herself up in sheets as she kicked and flailed.
With a thundering heart, I leapt into the bed next to her, scooping her up against my body without a second thought. “Shhh, baby. Shhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
She fought against me. “Help! Please!”
I held her tighter. “You’re dreaming, sweet girl. It’s just a dream. Only a dream. Come back to me. I’m right here. You’re okay. Just come back to the sound of my voice.”
Blaire stopped trying to fight me, but she still shook in my arms.
I pulled her closer against me, waiting for the shaking to stop.
I didn’t want to leave her bed, but I knew I should. I hated myself for not wanting to leave. But I loved her more than it all. And if she needed me to hold her every night until she stopped shaking, I would.
After all, I loved her more than I hated myself. At the end of the day, we only carried two things to the grave, etched into our bones: love and hate.
I just happened to be in ample possession of both.
Birds trilledthe arrival of morning, but I didn’t need the warning. I hadn’t slept a wink during the night. Blaire finally stopped shaking in the early hours, but I didn’t trust her enough not to sleepwalk if her sleep was already disturbed. So I lay awake, watching.
