Page 62 of Blazing Desires
“Don’t. Don’t fucking call me that,” I hiss at her.
My old name falling from her lips while she’s looking at me like I’m a ghost stokes my anger. I unleash it all, aiming it at her even though none of this is her fucking fault, dragging her down with me into the pit of misery and pain I normally pretend doesn’t exist.
I stand abruptly, causing my chair to fly backwards and smack into the wall, my hands clenching into fists as I rest them on top of my desk to stop myself from punching something. A sharp laugh rips from my chest, even though nothing about this situation is fucking funny. If she doesn’t say something soon, I’m going to losemyshit, because I know I’ve just losther.
“I remember.” Her voice is strong, unwavering, “I remember everything.”
Her eyes sear into me and I don’t move a muscle, I can only continue to seethe while my body is locked with this tension to the point of pain.
“Amélie was my mum’s best friend. She used to come over all the time, they were joined at the hip.”
Davina’s brows pinch together as her memories play out behind her eyes, accompanying the deep breath that passes between her lips.
“They were always laughing, trying different hobbies to find their favourites. They forced us to play with each other and left us alone together in the library, hoping we would become friends. You were…”
I wait with bated breath to hear her first memories of me.
How much does she remember? How much does she remember aboutme?
The selfishness of her wanting to remember me the same way I do her isn’t lost on me. But right now, I’m not thinking rationally. I hadn’t even considered that she would remember my old name, let alone call me by it, eliciting the reaction that it had. It had caught me off guard.
I should have known she would figure it out. There’s no way back from this.
“Go on,” I growl.
She drops her eyes from mine and guilt swirls like a vulture waiting to feast on my cold, dead body. I’m proud of her for facing me when I’m acting like this. I’m giving her every reason to run, but she stays rooted to the spot.
“You were a quiet kid. You liked to read—that was our first playdate. We sat in the library and would read all morning in silence until we were called for lunch. I remember the books you would read were…”
“Geeky? Nerdy? Is that how you saw me? The poor quiet boy in the corner that you justcouldn’t help feeling sorry for. That boydiedthe day your father took my mother from me!”
“No.”
The steel in her voice keeps my lips pressed shut in a thin line. She hasn’t caught on to the claim I made about her father. I’m being a prick, but I can’t pull it back or drop that bomb onher yet. I hate being this out of control. I want to take it all back, turn back time to stay in bed with her all day.
“You were quiet, yes. But I liked that about you. The calm and steady aura you had, the way you just let me be. Most kids at that age would chat away to fill the silence or make fun of my freckles and hair, but not you.”
She smiles slightly, as if her mind is replaying all the times we would be put together.
“I remember the first time you spoke to me. It was summer, the day was warm, and I’d put on my favourite purple summer dress. You had on all black as you nearly always did, and I remember thinkinghe’s going to melt out here.” She giggles. “We were walking outside in silence, as usual, and I slipped on the gravel.”
“You grazed your hands and knees,” I rasp. “You were worried about getting blood on your dress.”
Her half smile stretches into a full one. “Yeah, I was so scared I was going to ruin it that I didn’t even feel the sting of the cuts. You crouched next to me while I worried. You took my wrists and inspected my hands and then did the same with my knees.”
I keep my eyes on hers as I remember this moment, just like I remember all of our little moments together. I stay braced against my desk as the anger recedes a little. When I don’t say anything, she carries on.
“After that, you pulled your shirt off. I’d been so shocked that I’d shriekedwhat are you doing, are you crazy?at you. You ignored me and started wiping at the blood, meticulously going over each palm and knee. I’d thought you would tease me about tripping, but you never did. Do you recall what you said to me, Blaze?”
“It’s okay, Mea Divina. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” I whisper, my voice gravelly with emotion.
She didn’t call me by my old name. She still cares. She remembers.
“I knew I recognised that nickname, but after all these years I’d let the memories go hazy. Suppressed them because it hurt too much. I missed you. I missed you all and I was so fucking angry that you’d all left me behind to deal with my father’s wrath alone. That you’d brought me so much happiness only to leave me behind like a discarded toy.”
Her arms band around her waist as if she is trying to hold herself together. The pain I can see etched on her face cleaves me in two. My rage is instantly forgotten and I push back from the desk. I go to make my way over to her, but for every step I take she retreats the same distance.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
