Page 52 of When You're Gone
“No? Seriously? I didn’t even ask the question yet.”
He smirked again before reaching past her and snagging one of the water bottles they’d brought outside. He cracked it open and pushed it into her hand, the instructions clear.
“You didn’t answermyquestion yet. What did you want to be when you grew up? Like, when you were little and they asked you in school? If you’d rather drink than answer, that’s fine. But you’re only drinking water until that bottle’s gone whether you answer my question or not.”
She scowled, but the flash of anger fizzled the moment the cool liquid touched her lips.Mmm. She was so thirsty. She guzzled the bottle down in three gulps before tossing the empty to the side.
“A doctor,” she finally answered.
His smirk softened. “Me, too,” he offered on a sigh.
“No shit, Fielding Haas. You were pre-med in college.”
“Did you think you could cure cancer?”
When she looked up to meet his gaze, she saw nothing but earnestness in his eyes.
“I did,” she admitted, swallowing past the lump in her throat. The naivete of her childhood dreams seemed foolish now. Not that she had a better or bigger dream to point to. She was twenty-five years old, married but living alone, drifting between empty houses, picking up a few shifts a week at the same restaurant she had worked at since high school.
She had always envisioned her post-surgery life as a blank canvas of possibility. In reality, it was more like a destitute wasteland. She didn’t have a dream or a sense of direction. Maybe she should be more embarrassed about the sorry state of her life nowadays than about the dreams she held as a child.
“Andthatis where we’re different, Victoria Thompson.” Fielding reached across his bare chest to boop her on the nose.
He knew she hated that particular move, and she had been too in her own head to see it coming. But she couldn’t even muster up the energy to act annoyed. All she could think about was twelve-year-old Tori. Motherless, but with a dream. Optimistic, despite the darkness swirling around her.
When had she stopped fighting against that darkness and invited it to stay?
She bit down on her lower lip to stave off the tears threatening to fall as Fielding continued.
“You wanted to be a doctor to save the world. I wanted to be a doctor because I wanted to be rich and bang hot nurses.”
She whipped her head around at his crassness.
“Just kidding,” he retorted. “Sort of.”
She chuckled darkly. At least he was honest. As if sensing she was slipping away, he spoke up again.
“Let’s keep going. Your turn to ask me a question.”
She exhaled, grateful that he didn’t let her wallow. She was all for feeling her feelings, but it was exhausting to combat the same hopelessness each day. She didn’t want to think of it again tonight.
“What are you scared of?” she finally asked. She had no idea where that question had come from. She had already decided she didn’t want to lurk in the shadows of sentiment tonight. But sometimes, when the darkness took hold of her like this…
“Not being worthy.” His answer was instant, his voice clear.
That overheated, heavy feeling that had been threatening to pull her under was now encircling them both. She reached out on instinct, the sadness inside her ravenous to latch on to his truth and sink its teeth in for a taste. Her hand grazed against his forearm under the water, the tautness of the muscle in response to her touch the only indication that he even felt her next to him. His eyes stayed fixed on the waterfall across the way.
“Worthy of what?” she whispered.
He didn’t shift his eyes from the spot where the water cascaded down and crashed under the surface. He just shook his head, over and over again, back and forth so many times she lost count.
She had all but given up on getting an answer from him when he muttered, “Not what.”
She gulped down the hot, bubbly anxiety that had formed in her chest.
“Worthy of who?” she pushed.
She craved his answer the way she had coveted the water bottle she had just downed. She’d had no idea how badly she wanted it until it was right there for the taking.
