Page 25 of A Light in the Darkness
A hand on my shoulder makes me tense, pulling me out of wherever I just disappeared to, and in the reflection of the window, I see Moose looking at me. I turn to face him, wiping at the stray tears that I just realized were lingering on my face. I’m not even sure why I’m crying. Because he told me my fear was dumb? Because he hates me? Because I hate myself? Because, for a second, I thought we may die, and I realized I still haven’t done anything with the time I’ve been given.
“Fear of flying is actually pretty common.” His tone is tight, like he doesn’t want to admit that my fear is rational. “But it’s not a productive fear.”
“A productive fear?” I blink. “Is fear ever productive?”
“Of course. It keeps you from doing stupid shit like fucking an entire frat house.”
I turn my head back to the window, anger burning through me and making my eyes sting with more tears. I don’t care what he thinks of me but having him suggest that I’m a dumb whore hurts more than it should. Someone told me once that it’s all I’ll ever be, and I wanted him to be wrong.
But maybe he was right. Moose certainly seems to think so.
“Claire…”
I ignore him, and the surprise at hearing him call me by my actual name instead of my last name or the condescending ‘princess’. But Moose is a man, and they don’t like to be ignored. His hand grips my chin, and for some reason—maybe because it’s gentler than I anticipated—I let him turn me to face him. “I wasn’t going to fuck the whole fraternity.”
He laughs, making my anger grow, until he says, “I know.”
“I just want to…”
He lifts an eyebrow, waiting for whatever response I have. His jade green eyes glitter with amusement, and I shake my head, deciding not to tell him. “What do you want?” He prompts, those words surprisingly seductive in the hazy light between us.
I swallow my fear of being vulnerable with him. Maybe if I stop fighting him, he will take it easier on me. It’s easier to just give him what he wants. “I want to feel something.”
I expect him to laugh at me, to tell me that I’m being dramatic, to make a joke about what a desperate slut I am. He does none of that, choosing to repeat my own words back to me. “You want to… feel something?”
I laugh, because now that I’ve heard it out loud from someone else, it sounds ridiculous. The problem isn’t that I can’t feel anything.
The problem is that I feel too many things.
I don’t know how to silence them anymore. My old coping techniques don’t work because they were based on an old versionof me. I’ve shed that skin without having another to step in, and I haven’t yet figured out how to quiet the noise in my head.
Being who I was when I was with Remy had helped, but I apparently can’t be that person with the babysitter he hired to watch me. Hypocritical that he let me be myself when he was the one reaping the rewards. It’s why I’m so intent on finding Wes. Because finding him will let me find his father. But I can’t tell anyone about that, either.
“What? What do you want to feel?” Moose asks, studying me. There’s no judgement in his gaze—he just looks curious.
I don’t know how to answer that truthfully. I want to feel like I belong in this world, like I have a place and a meaning and a goal. I want to know that I’m not the same girl who couldn’t see beyond the ‘then’, so she tried to end it all. But the truth is, I feel just as directionless, just as helpless… even if I’m not the same girl.
“Everything at the right times.”
He doesn’t need to open his mouth to tell me that makes no sense. I can see it written all over his face. “It must be so easy not to be afraid of anything.” I roll my eyes and turn back to the window, not giving him a chance to gloat.
To my surprise, his laugh isn’t smug as I’d expect. “Everyone is afraid of something, Monroe.”
Back on the last name basis, I see. I turn to glare at him. “Yeah? So, tell me what yours is.”
“Only if you guess it.” He smirks.
“Remy?” I try. “You seem awful concerned with not pissing him off.”
“Because pissing off a guy like that would be stupid. He’s powerful, he’s rich.” I roll my eyes again, regretting bringing him up in the first place. But I guess I like pain because I’m the one who invited the topic into conversation. “And he is absolutely obsessed with you.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out whether he’s lying, trying to feed my ego. “Sure, he is. That’s why he gave me permission to fuckwhoever I want, right?” I laugh. Of course, I’d have been pissed if he’d had the audacity to tell me no, I didn’t. And it wouldn’t have stopped me from doing any of the flirting I did the other night with Austin.
“I suspect you’ll pay for it later.” Moose laughs a little. “But to answer your question, no. I’m not afraid of your big, scary, billionaire boyfriend.”
I start to tell him Remy’s not my boyfriend, but it seems a moot point to talk about him anymore. “Fine. Clowns?”
His lip twitches, but he remains otherwise impassive. “Not even Gacey.”
