Page 69 of Ablaze

Mala’s brows pinch. “What? No, it’s okay, Dean. I don’t want you to change your schedule for me.”

I entangle our fingers together, shoving my shattered heart aside. “I’m driving you there, and I’ll rent a car back.”

“Dean–” she starts, gazing into my eyes. They’re saying so much, but I can’t seem to read them at all. Or maybe I don’t trust myself to read them correctly.

“What did I tell you before, Mala? What have I said time and time again?”

Her frown deepens. “That you’d do anything for me.”

I boop her nose. “Don’t forget it. I’ll be here Friday morning.”

I’m just turning around to leave, my smile already dropping, when her hand catches around my wrist. “We never talked about the girl you like. Was there something you needed my help with? Are you planning on telling her how you feel soon?”

I shake my head, staring at her. “Nah. I found out I was too late . . . She’s moved on.”

Chapter Twenty-One

MALA

The weather telegraphs my sullen mood as I roll my suitcase out of my apartment. After locking the door behind me, I look up at the heavy gray clouds, shivering when a cold breeze finds its way through my heavy coat, sending my hair flying across my face.

I pull some strands of it off my lips before handing Rohan my keys, who will be returning them to the management office.

A wobbly smile finds my lips as I regard my nephew watching me from his dad’s arms with curiosity.

I know I’m going to see him again. It’s not like I’m moving to the Sub-Saharan desert. I’m only going to a different city on the same coast, but I can’t stop the twist inside my chest, my stomach. I can’t seem to get enough water into my throat to keep it from feeling so dry.

As if Rohan can read my face and knows how much I need a snuggle right about now, he hands over my nephew to me before grabbing the handle of my suitcase. He eyes the stairs with concern. “Careful coming down, munch. Some of the steps are still slippery.”

My ever-careful, ever-concerned brother. No matter how many times he’s come over during the winter, he’s said the same thing while giving the offending stairs the same look.

But as much as he’s been my protector and my unsolicited advisor, even he wasn’t able to change my mind about taking this job. He didn’t understand why I would want to leave when I seemingly had everything I wanted here, but I suppose I can only blame myself for his lack of knowledge.

That the one thing–the one person–I’ve ever wanted was not available to me here or elsewhere. That I’d rather not bear another eight years of waiting, hoping, praying for that one person to finally see me when I know he won’t.

I glance at Dean and Rohan exchanging words outside of my car. Dean’s face is still pulled tight, like it was when he left my house last weekend. The same night I told him I was moving. And though we’ve texted here and there in terms of the logistics of him driving me there–something I once again insisted I could do myself–he hasn’t said much more about it. Nor has he come by until now.

I swallow hard, thinking about that night. I had gone to bed trying to prepare myself for how I would give him the news the next day. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, no matter when or how I told him, but I hadn’t expected it to be quite so hard, either.

The way his face froze, despite the crack I could see I was making internally somewhere. The withdrawn and dejected look in his eyes, as if I’d told him he’d have to live with half the amount of oxygen he requires for the rest of his life.

And even though I’d signed the employment contract with Doggone, started the process of handing over the bakery to Samantha and Betty, and put my request in to break my apartment lease, I still stupidly held out hope that maybe, possibly, he’d beg me to stay. I naively envisioned being the one Jessie overheard him talking about on the phone. I foolishly imagined him placing his palms around my face and telling me that it’s always been me. That he’d been an idiot to have not seen it before.

I would have stayed.

But no matter how badly I wanted him to tell me, he didn’t. And that confirmed my belief even further–that I’d never have what I wanted here.

So as much as this move is my decision, it’s also his, too. He may not see it that way, but I do.

Maybe a part of me knows I’m running. A lot like the way I ran to Iowa the minute I got accepted into the university there–to give myself space from the constant barrage of memories that followed me around like a shadow all through my teenage years. But that same part needs the space again, because I can’t keep living like this–with unrequited hope and unfulfilled desire.

I press Sage’s fist to my lips, making him smile. He’s bundled up in so many layers, you’d think he was dressed for a winter in Siberia. “Aunty Mala loves you, pumpkin. I promise to FaceTime you as soon as I can.” I tell him, as if he understands the use of electronic devices for any other purpose besides teethers.

I make my way down the steps with Sage, handing him over to Rohan before pulling the two of them into a hug.

“Keep your bedroom door closed while you sleep. Gives you more time to react if the smoke alarm goes off.” Rohan tells me the same thing he has for years, but I don’t argue with him today. “And make sure you don’t have any of those damn candles lit unattended.”

“I promise,” I respond, still wrapped in his hug.

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