There’s nothing to cling to. No piece of the plot or dialogue to hear. No rhyme or reason for his fear. Only that heisafraid.
I shake my head, confused. Am I imagining it? Is my mind playing a cruel trick on me? I mean, of course it is. It’s a fucking dream. But the words, his emotions,were right there!I’d felt them! I’d even seen Charlie’s face, if only for a moment.
It meant something. I know that much. I just don’t understand it.
Shock rings through my system, quickly followed by anger. I can’t believe it. Charlie had visited me, and then he vanished. Without a single fucking word.
As if his anger seeped into my veins, I grip the notebook a little too tight. “Asshole!”
The dark cloud that always lingers settles over my shoulders like an unwanted cloak. But at least it’s not heavy. Not yet anyway. It could be,willbe, once my shock wears off.
Rubbing at my sternum, the emptiness pulses. It hurts. It fuckinghurtsto be this close to Charlie and not connect to him.
Groaning, I throw the notebook across the room. It clatters against the entertainment center and lands with a soft thud on the floor.
How dare my muse betray me like this! To tease me then disappear? I should banish Charlie to hell and burn the notebook for good.
But I won’t ever be able to. He’s a part of me. A huge part. As real to me as Declan or Piper. Only... distant.Like Miles.Someone I know but can’t touch.
I glare at the notebook, as if that will bring the words forward. I need to know what he was trying to show me. Tears prick the edges of my eyes. Will I ever connect to my muse again? Or is this how it’s going to be forever? A desperate yearning that is never quenched?
Across the room, Clematis pounces on a crocheted mouse I made her. She flips it in the air, back arching as she lands in a silly little hop. For a moment, I almost smile.
I only tried crochet because Miles said it helped him not dwell on sad things. I genuinely didn’t expect it to help me, but it did. It gave my hands something to do when my thoughts turned ugly. It gave me something to focus on. Something to finish, even if it isn’t a story. Stitch by stitch, loop by loop.
My heart physically aches for another kind of finish. Line by line, page by page.
Frustrated, I rest my head against the back of the couch. My throat tightens. I’m so tired of this. So fucking tired. Life shouldn’t be this difficult. What I want—what I really want—is to feel alive. Not this ghost-version knockoff of myself or theshell I drag around the house. I wantmore.More fullness. More realness. More warmth. Like what I’d felt last night when Miles and I had sex through a screen.
For that brief moment in time, I’d felt connected to someone—more than I ever have before. Like the depression wasn’t choking me, like I wasn’t alone. Like he saw me. Touched me. How is it possible to feel that when he’s so far away?
It’s unfair.
I like Miles. I really do, and I crave more, but I don’t know if we’ll ever meet, which means I could be setting myself up for heartbreak. And yet... I can’t seem to stop.
That terrifies me. I don’t know if I’d come back from losing Miles.
Losing Graham was one thing. But to lose Miles? I can’t even fathom it. He’s special. He’s the reason I’m even thinking of Charlie at all. I know he is.
Grabbing my vape, I slip outside. The gravel is warm under my bare feet, the sky a dull blue with thin wisps of clouds. Fresh hyacinth fills the air, calming me. I turn the hose on and go through the motions of watering the plants. I’m grateful Gena isn’t in her rocker. I don’t have the energy to talk to anyone.
Clematis trails behind me like a cloud. Without warning, her back arches, eyes fixated on something near a terracotta pot. She bats at it with one paw, then scrambles back down the gravel path. In one practiced move, she jumps back into the motorhome, disappearing from view.
Sweet smoke blows out from my nose. What was that about? I crouch to get a better look, and a weak chuckle escapes my throat when something tiny skitters near the pot.
“You’rewhat scared Clem?”
The tiny lizard stares up at me, beady eyes wide and alert. It can’t be more than a few inches long, with faded green scalesand a long thin tail. The light hits its back just right, making the scales shimmer like they’re made of magic.
I’m reminded of Charlie, and it hits me.
Charlie stood at the edge of an impossible divide, miles laid out before him. Fractures of light glittered against the jagged rock—a warning and a beckoning. He had a choice to make, but a deadly one. One wrong move, one slip, and he would be lost to eternal darkness.
My breath hitches and my toes dig into the earth as I scramble back inside. Lunging for the notebook on the laminate floor, I scribble the lines down as fast as I can. When I’m done, I sit back and stare at them.
What does it even mean?These aren’t from his story. Not that I remember, anyway. Charlie hadn’t been standing on some ledge when I left him. Or was he? Shit, why can’t I remember?
I slink back against the entertainment center, defeated. Even if I hadn’t left Charlie on that ledge, I still recognize that world. I know it as well as my own home. And to see it again, to hear the howling wind in my ears, disoriented me.
