I feel alive in a way I haven't felt in a long, long time. Every fucking atom is humming under my skin.
Bowen Briggs is here. Inside the big cabin. He offeredmethe guest bed like he owns the place.
Funny, how I never questioned why he was here atmyfamily’s property. I don’t even have to ask to know he’s seen them a hell of a lot more than I have recently. I bet he still goes over there all the time. Still lets my mom coo and fuss over him. Still watches football games with my dad. Still talks to Tucker.
I bet he does. He’s earned his place here.
I’mthe intruder.
He’s here.
I can hear something breaking up the sound of the trees and nature. Something electrical, maybe, coming from the cabin. A low, constant reminder that I didn’t need at how damn close he is.
Not a memory. Not a ghost.
Him.
It’s surreal considering how long it’s been.
How it ended.
I shift again. Back to the windshield.
I deserved it.
I did.
I deserved it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt. Doesn’t mean itstilldoesn’t hurt.
I can picture him now, moving through the small kitchen just a little ways away from me. He’s pushing back a loose curl, jaw ticking like it does when he’s frustrated. He’s looking at the window, but not looking through it. He doesn’t care enough to see. But annoyed enough to acknowledge that he’s not alone here anymore.
I hate how fast my brain fills with him. There’s a small boy with wild curls and a reserved smile. A kid hovering on the line between boy and teen. A teen with the beginnings of shadows in his blue eyes. A guy who’s hollow and tired. A bearded, guarded, fully grown man. Every version of him is walking around my mind, looking at me. Inspecting my swirling memories. My aching heart. Measuring me up.
That boy is frowning, wanting to fix the burn in my throat and the ache in my chest.
The kid wants to crawl into bed next to me and shield me from whatever is making me lose my breath.
The teen is hovering just off to the side, warring with himself.
The guy is sitting next to me, back against the bed. Knees bent up. He won’t let me sit alone, but he doesn’t know how to fix me any better than I do.
And the man? Well, the man is in a cabin after letting me know he didn’t care if I stayed or if I left.
I shift back to looking up at the ceiling.
“Meyer. Look at me.”
I couldn’t.
Not yet.
But God, I want to.
I force my eyes to close. I toss and turn. I manage to fall into that space between sleeping and awake.
The smell of smoke follows me into my dreams.
Kit
