Page 28 of Possessed By the Mountain Man
I don’t move. I don’t interrupt. I don’t fucking breathe. Because if I do, I might cross the room and drag her into my arms before she’s ready.
She goes on. “I moved in with my aunt after that. She made me throw out my costumes. Said it was unhealthy to keep clinging to childish things.” Her eyes shine but she doesn’t cry. “So I did what I had to. I survived. I grew up. I learned how tosmile when I didn’t want to. And every October… I decorated alone. Big. Loud. Stupid. Glittery. Weird. Because it was the only time I ever felt—” Her voice cracks again. “—anything good. Like they were still with me.”
Fuck.
I hate this. I fucking hate it. The way her voice shakes. The way she finally drops the armor. The way I want nothing more than to walk over there and fix it—even though I don’t know how.
I step closer before I can stop myself. “You don’t have to tell me more.”
“I know,” she says quietly. “But I wanted to.”
I don’t touch her.
I want to.
God, I want to.
But whatever this is, whatever is happening in this room, it feels sacred. If I grab her now, if I drag her in too hard, I’ll wreck it. And some stupid animal part of me wants—needs—to protect this moment, like if I do, I protect her.
So I just stand there.
Closer.
Still not close enough.
She wipes her cheek, even though no tears fall. “You’re going to say it was a long time ago. That I should move on.”
“No,” I say. “I’m not.”
She looks up, surprised.
“You don’t have to move on,” I tell her. “You just have to live.”
She blinks. “That was almost profound.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I mutter.
Her smile is small. But it’s real.
She squeezes a pumpkin plush in her hands. “You still hate Halloween?”
“I never said that.”
“You implied it.”
I shrug. “I don’t hate it. I just don’t get it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s loud. Messy. Pointless.”
She smirks faintly. “So am I.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “You are.”
She narrows her eyes. “Was that an insult?”
“No.”
