Page 39 of Falling Into Forever
“After I write. I go for a walk to mull over my scenes and where I want my story to go.”
“But it’s midnight and pitch fucking black out here. You can’t swim, and you don’t even have a flashlight.”
She stops like she’s only now considering this. “It’s not an issue. I’ve lived here my entire life. I stay away from the lake, and I walk the same path every night.”
“Every night?” How can she still not possess an ounce of self-preservation? My heart hammers against my chest as a real fear of losing her consumes me. “You do this every night? By yourself?”
“Why do you ask so many questions?” She sighs, and I imagine an epic eye roll in there too.
“I’m trying to get to know you,” I admit. “You’re everything I remember and nothing familiar. I haven’t figured out how to reconcile that.”
“Well, hopefully you’ll be able to head home soon, and you won’t have to worry about it. I’m not a puzzle to be solved, Dante.”
What would she do if she found out I’d been scheming, planning, and waiting for the right time to reenter her life for over a month? Or that I’ve always known California wasn’t my home because she wasn’t there? What would she say if I told her a giant Saylor-sized hole was missing in my life?
We walk a few paces in silence, but I watch her from the corner of my eye. Being stuck with this woman doesn’t feel like the prison sentence she makes it out to be.
She walks with her face pointed to the stars, and I use the opportunity to memorize every inch of her. It hits me then that her shoulders aren’t squared, and her fists aren’t clenched. She’s not even holding onto her necklace for dear life.
“You’re calm out here,” I say after studying her for a beat. “Or at least, calmer than I’ve seen you.”
“I told you. I don’t do well with people anymore.”
I chuckle because she’s never liked people, and she shoots me a dark expression.
“It’s quiet out at night,” she continues. “People don’tusuallytry to talk to me. And it’s really hard for overwhelming anxiety to sink its claws in when you’re engulfed by a sky full of stars. It reminds me that I’m a small cog in the wheel of this universe. There’s a whole world of problems that exist outside of my own. But I have a hard time remembering that through the noise of life sometimes.”
I reach over and take her hand in mine. She flinches, her body tensing from her forehead to her toes, but she doesn’t immediately pull away, and my shoulders relax. It’s funny how physical my reactions are to her even now.
“Practice,” I say in explanation while lifting our joined hands. I draw the line at kissing the back of hers, even though I want to, because I’m pretty sure she’d send me home, and I’m not ready to be away from her.
She scowls in response. My entire body smiles. When she doesn’t fight me, it’s a small victory in the war of Sass.
“I like this version of you,” I admit. “But I like all the versions of you.” I always did. Her fingers twitch in my palm like she’s attempting to flex them.
“It’s a mask,” she says. “We all wear them.” She guides us back toward her house but allows our hands to stay connected.
“I get the Sassy mask,” I say. “And now, I’ve experienced it, too. Does that mean you’re showing me Saylor now?”
“You make it sound like I have multiple personalities,” she grumbles.
“No, I think you’re very intentional with who gets to see what sides of you. But I wonder if anyone gets the whole woman anymore.”
She slips her hand from mine and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Not everyone knows who they are. Some of us are just protecting the pieces we recognize the only way we know how.”
Oh, Saylor. I’m glad it’s dark out so she can’t see the emotion welling in my eyes for the pain she thinks she’s hiding.
I watch her profile as we walk. “Is this the path you always take?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “My walks are for me and me alone.”
“Jesus, Saylor. Do you tell anyone where you go?”
She shakes her head again, and I file this information away, adding it to the list of things we need to talk about.
I don’t realize we’re home until she turns toward the dock.
My breath stalls in my lungs as we walk single file, then she sits with her feet dangling over the edge. Once she’s settled, I join her to make sure she doesn’t fall in.
