Page 140 of Reign of Light
I can’t think.
All I can do is stare back into those teal eyes, the ones that brought me back to life in so many ways, and beg them to save me once more.
“Lennox, sweetheart, you need to breathe.”
A sound like I’ve never made before rips from my chest as I try to suck in air. This feels worse than drowning, worse than giving up hope on my mother. I can’t feel my hands, my legs, my feet. My chest feels like it is caving in on itself, my breaths so shallow and sobs so deep that I can’t move.
I’m dying.
I always wondered what would pull me into the next life, and after facing death so many times on this very island and at the hands of others back home, I never thought it would be from a broken heart and an impossible choice.
Weston lowers us to the floor and kneels before scooping me into his arms and crushing me against his chest. The moment he takes over, holding me when I cannot hold myself, I completely break.
Pain erupts in my fingers as I clutch onto him, squeezing and grabbing anything I can reach to stop feeling like I’m falling. His clothes, his neck, his shoulders, his arms. My limbs move erratically, grasping at anything and unable to be controlled by my spiraling mind.
“Shhh,” he croons into my ear. His hand strokes my hair as he rocks me slowly. “Breathe, Lennox, breathe.”
I try to follow his command, but I can’t. All I can think about is that these could be the last moments that either of us remembers eachother. These could be our last touches, our last caresses, our last words spoken, before they disappear forever. Our entire love story vanished, leaving the other miserable and alone to watch as they are forgotten and unable to ever speak of it.
“I—I—I…can’t,” I stutter, and press my forehead into his chest.
“You can. You are the strongest person I know. You have survived worse than this. You can breathe, baby. Please breathe.”
“I can’t let you go, too,” I cry, each word punctuated by a sob.
Is this how my life is truly meant to be? Am I destined to be alone? Every person I have needed or ever grown close to has been ripped away from me. Just when I think I have finally found a place where I belong, both in the arms of someone else and within myself, once again it’s slipping through my fingers.
Weston or me. This choice is impossible. I can’t make it.
But I can’t let him make it for me.
“You aren’t letting me go,” he grumbles, and his hand settles on the side of my neck, pushing me back slightly so he can look into my eyes. “You aren’t letting me go. I will still be there, by your side, whether or not you remember me. Until the breath stills in my lungs.”
“It’s not fair,” I choke out, and a sad smile tips the corner of his lips.
“Nothing in life is fair, sweetheart. The one I’ve lived is proof of that.” He dips his face toward mine, the sincerity in his gaze piercing. “But every unfair second of it I struggled through was worth it because it brought me to you. Now breathe. In.”
I finally suck in a short, stuttered breath, keeping my eyes locked on his while I do.
“Again,” he commands as his hand strokes circles on my back. I follow his orders, the second breath barely easier than the last, but I will myself to try.
“Keep breathing,” he says, and I do, refusing to look away from him, and trying to soak in the feeling of his touch, because either way, I lose it forever.
“We don’t have to decide right now,” he murmurs, and my measured breaths stop.
“Yes, we do, Weston. We’re in the mountain!” I gesture around us incredulously, flinging my hand toward the wall nearest us, and he catches my wrist, bringing my hand back to rest on his chest.
“What I mean is, we can both try, and when we go back, we can decide then. All of this worry might be for nothing. We could still be unworthy.”
A harsh laugh escapes me. “That would make all of this easier.”
“Maybe in the moment, but not really. You would still have to say goodbye to Lyla.”
A fresh wave of tears fills my eyes, and he leans forward, pressing a firm kiss to my forehead.
“Whatever happens, you aren’t losing me, Lennox. I will be right behind you, like I swore I would.”
We sit on the floor of the chamber, clutching each other in silence until my breaths become steady once again, though still broken by the occasional stuttered inhale. The panic has quieted, and despite the steady hum of anguish and worry just beneath the surface, in this moment, with this breath, I no longer feel like I’m imploding.
