Page 79 of Citadel

My eyes pop open. “What?”

“Have you forgiven me?” I know what he’s referring to now, but he puts it into words anyway. “For leaving you the way I did.”

The gruff words linger in the night air.

I have no idea what to say. What the answer is.

His hand grows still on my face.

“I…” I force the word out because I suddenly realize that my silence is upsetting him. He thinks I’m still angry. Resentful. “I… think so.”

His fingers brush lightly against my messy hair.

“I think I have. It’s not like you did something unforgiveable. It was wrong, but you didn’t owe me anything but a conversation. It’s not like you broke a commitment.”

“I broke your trust.” He takes a weird shuddering breath. “And it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“Yeah,” I admit since what he’s saying is true. “But you love your brother. I understand why you did what you did. He’s your priority.”

“Is he?”

That surprises me so much I turn over onto my back so I can look up at his face. It’s as stoic as ever. Unrevealing. But at the same time heartbreaking. “He’s always been your priority,” I manage to say.

“Yeah. But should he be? I keep thinking about what you said before. About his own choices getting him where he is. I blamed myself for what happened to him, but it’s not all my fault.”

“No, it’s not. He’s ultimately responsible for his own choices. Maybe you could have done better. We all could do better sometimes. But he’s not yours to carry.” I clear my throat, trying to articulate exactly what I want to say. “He clearly doesn’t want that. If he did, he wouldn’t be continuing to make the choices he’s making. And if you don’t accept it, you’ll always be like Cain, cursed and wandering endlessly to pay for your sins.”

He lets out a dry huff. “That’s how I feel. Exactly like Cain.”

“But the curse isn’t from God. You’re putting it on yourself.” I’m relieved when I see him nod. It feels like he knows what I’m trying to say. That he agrees. That he needs to hear it. That he needs to be allowed to let go. “He’s not yours to carry, Cole. You can’t keep trying to do it.”

His jaw tenses. He glances away. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you mine to carry?”

My heart flies apart, falling into frantic flutters. It takes several seconds for me to take a full breath. I finally whisper, “Is that what you want?”

I wait. And keep waiting. Until he finally leans down and brushes a kiss against my hair. “I’m not sure I’m allowed what I want.”

It’s an answer. Just not the one I want.

It’s still okay.

I might want it, but I don’t need him to carry me. I’ve learned to carry myself.

Ultimately that’s what we all have to do.

* * *

We rest for a few hours. Well, I rest, and Cole stays awake to keep watch and brood. It’s pitch-black outside when we start back toward their camp with the moon and the stars blocked by a layer of clouds.

Cole says it’s good. The darkness can only help us. But it’s unnerving walking through a world of total darkness, only the bluish artificial light of Cole’s flashlight breaking the unrelenting obscurity.

At any other time, I’d be scared by what might be lurking out there in the dark, but right now all my focus is on what’s waiting when we reach our destination.

We’ve got to get Breanna back. Or die in the attempt.

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