Page 94 of Ablaze

To be broken.

A few yards down the beach, I turn toward the lake, admiring the way the stars reflect and glitter across it.

I take a seat on a grassy patch, pulling my feet in front of me and hugging my knees. Everything aches, as if my body is nothing but a vessel for pain.

I know I have a lot to be thankful for, like my brother, his wife, and my adorable nephew. My friends, like Malcolm and Betty, who I still talk to often. But no one balms the loneliness inside my bones.

No one but him.

And it pisses me off that I put so much of myself into cultivating that friendship, that love and affection, only to have him strip it away in one night.

One night that he promised wouldn’t change us, only to tell me–show me–that it had.

I turn my head, catching him strolling toward me. A gust of wind has a wisp of my hair snapping over my lips, and I drag it behind my ear, turning my head back toward the lake.

Why is he here now when all he seems to have wanted is to keep me away? I almost chuckle. Maybe he thought I’d get lost, taken by a wayward wave.

He’s always been a caretaker, a protector.

Clearly, he couldn’t take care of my heart.

A vision of him bashing Warren’s face with his fist flashes behind my lids.

But if he doesn’t want to be in my life, then what’s the purpose of trying to protect me now? Is it so I don’t disappear under his watch?

His voice startles me, despite knowing he’s close. “You promised you wouldn’t run away.”

I almost throw my head back and laugh. I promised? I promised? The man has fought one too many fires and clearly melted his brain cells.

After a pause, he clears his throat and starts again, “You promised to–”

Oh, hell no. He wants to throw blame? Well, he’d better be ready for me to toss some back his way.

“No, Dean.” I shake my head and stagger onto my feet. “You fucking promised.” I jab the breeze between us. “You promised nothing would change. You promised that night wouldn’t affect us. Remember that? But it did, didn’t it? It changed everything! And all the years prior to that, when you told me you couldn’t, wouldn’t, mess up what we have . . . or should I say, what we had? What happened to that promise, huh?” Anger, betrayal, and so much fucking sadness blends like a bitter cocktail inside my chest. “I waited for you. Eight fucking years, I stood on the sidelines, waiting for you . . .”

“Yeah?” he bellows. “As if I fucking didn’t? You think you’re the only one who had front-row seats to watch a show you never wanted to see?”

My hands fist at my sides and a current that’s been building up slowly over the course of the past few months, maybe even years, canters through me. “So why didn’t you say anything when you had the chance? Why wait until I was moving on?”

“Moving on?” His nostrils flare. “Is that what you call it, sprinkles? Because the way I see it, you weren’t moving on; you were running.”

I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, fine. I was running. But have you taken even one moment to consider why? Or is that too hard for you to do, given your brick of a brain?” I grit my teeth. “I was running because I was fucking tired. Tired of waiting, tired of wanting and wishing–”

“Wishing for what?” His gaze sears me, the frame of his broad chest carving itself against the dim light.

I shake my head, realizing my cheeks are wet, my tears pricking slightly under the chill. “It doesn’t matter.” I laugh hoarsely, like I’ve gone insane. Maybe I have. What else would anyone call the last nine years? “Why does it matter? I’m not the one who can make it matter. I never have been.”

My eyes open only when his hands are wrapped around my biceps. I didn’t realize I’d closed them. The determination in his features, the warmth of his hands and his closeness has my breath stalling. “Wishing for what, Mala? Say it.”

My chin wobbles like the idiot I am. Crying about someone who will never be mine. But I’m tired of holding it all in. If we’re going to torch this friendship anyway, then let’s light the damn thing on fire and get on with our lives.

I sniffle, whispering, “For it to be me.”

His eyes narrow and at first, I think he’s going to shove away from me, as if he’s been burned, but then I see it. The tears he’s been holding back. Not tears because of this weekend or for the loss he just experienced, but tears caused by my words.

“Don’t you fucking get it?” His palms cup my face and his warm breath fights with the cold against my lips, my cheeks. “It’s always been you. From the moment you blazed into my life, it’s been you. You were the reason I woke up, so I could see your face. You were the reason I slept, so I could dream about you. You were the reason I smiled, because you smiled back. And you were the reason I lived, because you made it impossible not to. You were the reason, sprinkles. You’ve always been my reason.”

My breath stutters on an exhale, tears streaming down my face competing with the waves in the lake.

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