I repeat it to myself until it almost sounds true.
Almost.
But when I close my eyes, all I see is her face.All I feel is the ache of wanting something I don't deserve and can't have.
And somewhere in the dark, Emma's ghost laughs.
* * *
Morning comes too soon.I didn't sleep.Barely dozed.When I finally drag myself out of bed, everything hurts, body, head, chest.
I make coffee.Burn toast.Stand at the window watching the city wake up and wonder what Enya's doing right now.
If she's thinking about me.
If she hates me as much as I hate myself.
Probably more.
My phone buzzes.Text from Pyro.
Need you on a run tonight.Be ready.
Work.Good.I can do work.I can focus on club business and pretend the rest doesn't exist.
I text back a thumbs up then pocket the phone.
Stay away from her, I tell myself.It's better this way.
She deserves better than a man haunted by ghosts he can't lay to rest.
Better than someone who'll hurt her without meaning to.
Better than me.
I believe it.
I have to believe it.
But it doesn't stop the ache in my chest every time I think about never seeing her again.
It doesn't stop me from wanting what I can't have.
It doesn't stop the way her name, her real name, Enya, has carved itself into my bones.
I'm fucked.
Completely fucked.
And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
4
ENYA
Morning arrives too bright and way too soon.
I lie in bed for a minute after the alarm goes off, staring at the ceiling, willing myself to move.My body aches, not from physical exertion but from the way I held myself rigid all night; shoulders tight, jaw clenched, fists balled under the pillow like I was bracing for impact.
