I shook my head, burying it deeper into his chest. His arms responded by pulling me tighter. “Surely this is Heaven.”
I couldn’t disagree with him, but I knew his lack of lucidity had him confused as to who was lounging in his arms.
“You’re not dead,” I said. “Open your eyes and that will become pretty clear.” I could only hope he wouldn’t jump to the likely conclusion he’d ended up in hell given the present company.
His eyelids lifted, revealing a set of eyes that were still able to reflect my coveted future. A future I’d chased off, but I could still see it regardless.
A smiled pulled up his mouth, one that was equal parts shy and sweet. “Dreaming then?” he asked, melting my cheek with the warmth coming from his hand.
Again, I couldn’t disagree with him, this was the best kind of dream, but I couldn’t waste any more time helping him ascertain reality. I knew Patrick would be busting through the door soon, prying me away from his brother if need be.
As predicted, a rapping sounded at the door. “You awake in there, brother?” Patrick hollered, not pausing for an answer. “You’ve done enough, Bryn. Come on out and leave William alone.” Patrick had a talent for making you understand just what he meant without actually saying it.
“I’m coming,” I fired back, irritated by the reminder, but planning on holding up my end of our bargain. Patrick had given me more time than I was entitled to with William the past couple of days; I wouldn’t show my gratitude by going back on my promise to leave when William woke up.
“You’ve got one minute,” he warned.
“Got it,” I hollered back, turning my attention back to William.
“Have you changed so much that you concede to Patrick without battling a few hundred rounds?” he smiled, but his eyes were sad.
“Change is the one thing we can count on,” I said, putting on my brave face. “The only thing we can be sure of will be with us to the end.”
He didn’t respond, he just studied me, searching for something. “Why are you sad?” he asked, his honey-thick voice breaking through at last.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I said, not intending for the words to be verbalized.
“Perhaps because the man you love is alive, will always be alive,” he said, his face and voice guarded.
I felt a bout of panic, assuming he was talking about himself and I’d failed to keep an indifferent front with him, but then he glanced at the door, where Paul waited two rooms down. His face twisted infinitesimally, but it was enough to give away that the damage I’d done to him hadn’t fully healed.
“I don’t know why I’m sad,” I said, letting my hands support my heavy head.
“Yes, you do,” he said softly. “You’ve got something weighing on you so heavily, you can’t even look at me right now. Let it go, Bryn.”
“You don’t want to know. Trust me.” I closed my eyes, refusing to let any tears fall.
“Trust me, I do,” he said, propping up on an elbow. “But how about I start? I’ve got something I need to tell you—”
“I know,” I interrupted, sure my mission of keeping the tears at bay would go up in flames if I had to hear about . . . her—thinking it felt like a dirty word. “Patrick already told me everything.”
William’s face lined. “He did?”
“Mm-hmm,” I replied flippantly.
He looked down, opening his mouth, and then closed it. He ran his fingers through his hair, still looking confused. “And what did you think about everything?”
I inhaled, wishing I could come up with a better way to stall. If I’d been trapped in purgatory living without William, I’d now digressed to the inner circle of hell having to talk about him being with someone else. “I just want you to be happy,” I said, barreling through the grapefruit sized lump in my throat. “I’m happy where I am and now you can be, too. I know there was a time when we thought we’d be with each other forever”—the grapefruit was warping into a melon—“but, like I said, things change. We’ve got to change with them if we want to survive.”
His head fell back into the stack of pillows. “Wow. That’s not how I thought that would go,” he blew out an exaggerated sigh. “I really am an idiot.”
“How did you expect it would go?” I asked, feeling the seconds we had left together ticking away.
“Not like this,” he answered, covering his eyes with his hands. “It’s your turn now—I’m finished. What’s weighing on you?”
I cleared my throat, preparing to deliver my answer as evenly as crushed-girl possible.
“If you ever loved me,” he said before I opened my mouth, “don’t say ‘it’s nothing.’”
My back shook from the sobs I kept locked inside. I couldn’t tell him the truth, he’d moved on, but a lie wouldn’t form on my lips. It was the truth or silence, and it turns out, silence isn’t always golden.
“It’s alright,” he soothed. “Everything will be alright.”
It was his sweet voice that broke through my resolve to not look at him. I should have known, but of course the first thing my eyes found were his and they were drowning with concern.
“No, it won’t. Nothing will be alright,” I whispered, realizing I was traversing a road I couldn’t turn back from.
“What is it?” he asked, sitting up. His hand wound around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “Tell me.”
“I can’t,” I said with no conviction, letting him close the distance between us. I was incapable of putting up a fight.
“You can—you know you can. There was a time when you trusted me with your life. Trust me again,” he whispered, gazing at my lips, inching closer. If I was able to find a smidgen of willpower deep within, it was all over when his eyes came back to mine. They drew me to him like water pulled from a well—there as no escape, it was inevitable.
Instead of being a victim to his enticement, I became an active participant. Our mouths connected, all save for the thin strip of air separating them, when I stopped . . . momentarily. I couldn’t kiss him until he knew how I felt, until he knew this wasn’t just a weak lapse in judgment, but coming from the depths of my core. “William, I—”
“Time’s up!” A materialized Patrick fog-horned right outside my ear.
“Damn it, Patrick,” William growled through closed teeth, keeping his hands and eyes locked on me.
Patrick’s presence brought me back to my senses, back to reality. Willpower was something I was incapable of with William. I scooted down to the edge of the bed, still not able to free myself of his magnetic pull.
I stood up, moving to the opposite corner of the room. His eyes didn’t leave me and he wasn’t hiding the disappointment in them, but it wasn’t the kind of disappointment I hoped it was—the kind that came from regretting we’d let the moment pass us by. The disappointment came from my weakness, my inability to stay away from him, despite knowing he was with someone else. I’d just about become the “other woman.”
“Could you give us a minute,” William said to Patrick, more commanding than requesting. “And by minute, I don’t mean a literal minute.”
“Sorry, no can do, brother,” Patrick said firmly, crossing his arms. “Bryn’s man is about to wake and I imagine he’ll have a few questions for her to sort through.” He looked back at me, raising his eyebrows expectantly. “Isn’t that right, Bryn?”
I nodded once, backing farther into the corner. I didn’t let myself look at William, I couldn’t take him seeing me for who I really was any more.
“Bryn,” a strong voice vibrated down the hall, through the door.
“Ah,” Patrick said, clapping his hands together. “There’s our boy now. He transitioned fast, what a fine Immortal he’ll be.” Patrick’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “Would you agree with me, William?”
I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t stay in this room. When I heard Paul call out for me again, I took my escape, flying out the door.
William didn’t call out for me, he didn’t ask me to wait. I knew I shouldn’t have expected him to, but there was still some tangle of hope that had wedged itself deep inside my heart and I couldn’t twist it loose.
I entered Paul’s room and what was taking place within was shocking enough to relieve my mind from the emotions running amuck. Paul was bouncing on his bed, spinning somersaults in the air every few hops, dressed in nothing but his plaid boxers.
He glanced over at me, bouncing higher. “Look at me,” he shouted, running his hands down his torso. “I’m healed. It’s a miracle,” he said, pulling his best impersonation of a television evangelist.
Paul was probably the only person in the world who would wake up to a drastically changed body and take it at face-value, not assuming it was some kind of dream or hallucination. What a wonderful view to have of the world—that anything was possible. Only Paul “Mr. Rose-Tinted-Glasses” Lowe.
“Easy there, cowboy. Your head’s going to punch a hole through the ceiling if you jump any higher,” Patrick said, amused, from behind. “The owner might have just left the building, but that’s no reason to go all Animal House on the place.”
I spun on my heels. “Where is he?”
Patrick grinned, his face victorious. “Gone.”
I lunged through the doorway, shouldering him into the wall in my haste.
“Where you going, Bryn?” Paul shouted after me. “You’re going to miss the grand finale.” I heard bed springs smash and burst, followed by a heavy grunt. I doubted if there’d be any vestige of the bed intact by the time I returned.
I burst into the room William had been in, seconds ago, only to find it empty. Nothing but a cyclone of blankets to prove he’d been here. A note was propped up on one of the pillows, the leather braided bracelet below it. I swallowed, rushing towards the bed. I didn’t need to read the note to know what the message would be and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to touch it, I wanted to pretend this was a figment of my warped imagination and I’d find my way back to reality sometime soon.
Telling myself to stop delaying the inevitable, I picked up his note, feeling my stomach twisting.
This was once my job, to protect you. It isn’t any longer.
I read it again, the message just as clear as it had been on the first read through, so I don’t know why I couldn’t accept it, at least not from a few words penned on paper. I needed to hear it from him, his mouth, but he was gone . . . or was he?
I was on auto-pilot, cancelling all thoughts and inhibitions out. I rushed into the hall, rounding the corner towards the entrance with such speed, I crashed into the opposite wall.
A form froze in the doorway, his hand on the doorknob, tentatively looking over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” I asked needlessly. I already knew where and how he’d likely be welcomed home—with an eager set of arms and lips.