Page 95 of The Weight Of Falling
Perhaps healing isn’t always about being whole, but about being held.
A wordless moment follows, where I lose myself in the way we fit together, and he lets me carry a little bit of whatever he’s been holding on his own for so long.
I breathe in the scent of him and then I step back slightly and turn his face toward mine. I need him to look at me.
“Aren’t you tired of being alone?” I ask gently.
“I’m not alone,” he replies, so soft I can barely catch the words. “I’m living with my ghosts, and they never leave me alone.”
“You can let me in,” I tell him quietly. “It’s okay to let people in. It’s okay to letmein.”
“You don’t understand,” he says, and I can feel the heat and tension and turmoil pouring off him. “You don’t know my ugly pieces, the atrocities of my past—”
“I know you,” I say firmly. “Not past Joel. But Now Joel. And I like him very much.”
Truthfully,likedoesn’t cover how I feel about him. I’m intensely and insanely attracted to him. I’ve never felt such a physical pull before, but I also feel a deeper connection that goes beyond the physical. His enigmatic nature only pulls me in deeper. He fascinates me as much as he confuses and confounds me.
My curiosity about him is voracious. I want to know every detail about him, his past, his family, his work. I have so many questions and so few answers.
“I will end up telling you the truth,” he says at last, his eyes meeting mine. “But not today.”
“Joel—”
“Please. I don’t have the strength or the stamina to rehash those memories today,” he says, his voice tired.
Well, I’m tired too. I’m tired of him editing his words. I’m tired of his carefully worded evasions.
“I can be your strength,” I whisper. “Just for today.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want you looking at me differently. I don’t want you stiffening when I come near. Let’s leave it like this between us. At least for now.”
He pulls me into his chest again and holds me, silencing my arguments. And coward that I am, I let him. Because as much as I want the truth, a small part of me is afraid that the darkness hovering over him could engulf me as well.
38
“What do you want to drink?” Hannah asks, raising her voice to be heard over the noise of the Saturday-night crowd.
“I don’t mind,” I say. “You choose.”
Her eyes light up. Abruptly, I remember this is the friend who never loses a drink dare. “Actually, I’ll have a Cosmopolitan,” I say hastily.
“Got it.” She shimmies over to the bar to order our drinks.
It’s unusually crowded in Kelly’s tonight. Almost every table is taken and the main bar is stacked at least two people deep. A silent game plays on the screen in one corner.
Raucous laughter erupts from a group of men near the hallway to the restrooms. I don’t recognize any of them. Their stares linger a little too long to be comfortable. Thankfully, the table Hannah somehow scored is well away from them.
She comes back a few minutes later with our drinks. “Here you go.”
I glance at the knot of impatient people still waiting to order. “How did you get ours so fast?” I ask, impressed.
She laughs. “Charm and bribery. Works every time. Also, never mess with a redhead.”
“I love your natural red. Are you sticking with it?”
She nods. “My wild hair days are over.”
I’ve known Hannah since high school. She was the kind of girl students admired and teachers disciplined. She has hazel eyes that miss nothing and fiery auburn hair to match the temper she’s learned to control. She used to change her hairevery quarter, going from an ink-black bob with a slice of electric blue to bright blonde with pink tips. Like Sofia, she leaves me a little awed.
