Chapter 42
Chapter
Forty-Two
Iwill never see him again. The pain in Malachi’s chest swelled until he thought he would burst.
Of course, he’d known he probably would never see Trent again, but to have it confirmed…
“His love for you needs to fade,” Grady continued, voice steady and firm. “So he can move on.”
Malachi nodded. But he wanted to open his mouth and cry out. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shout to the skies.
Of course, he should want Trent to move on. But the idea of never seeing Trent again hurt so much that he couldn’t move. He placed a hand on his throat, feeling the muscles spasm beneath. His vocal cords tingled.
Grady stared at him, as if expecting some response.
Finally, Malachi pulled himself together to speak. “He really is wonderful.”
“I know.”
“And I’m sure he’ll find someone who will love him as he deserves.” Malachi dropped his gaze to the counter. He pressed his webbed fingers against the dark wood. “He is lovely inside and out. And our time together…” He trailed off as the images of what he’d never have again washed over him.
“Your time together?” Grady prompted.
“He is a delight.” Malachi closed his eyes, feeling the ache and joy of each and every memory.
“Just sitting and eating, making Christmas decorations by the fire, or talking by the lake, he lightens all spaces even on the darkest winter nights. And in bed—” He cut himself off and opened his eyes.
No doubt that would not be appropriate to talk about with Trent’s older brother.
“He makes everything better. He made my life better. I am glad to have known him, even if only briefly. I will miss him greatly.” Malachi forced himself to say the next bit. “I’m sure he will meet someone and they will make Trent as happy as he deserves.”
Grady’s eyes narrowed. He looked away. “Cauldrons and clusterfucks!”
“What?”
“I really want to be fucking pissed at you. I want to hate you. You broke my baby brother’s heart!”
Malachi flinched.
Grady exhaled. “Can I ask, what is the difference between friends who are fucking and people who are in love?”
Malachi blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Just then, when you were talking about Trent, you lit up like a fucking Christmas tree!” Grady snapped. “What you described to me sounds a fuckton like love. So here I am, and I’m trying to understand what makes that not love.”
Malachi’s mouth moved. But no words formed. His swollen throat clenched.
“You clearly care about him. You clearly miss him. And look at you.” Grady gestured to Malachi.
“What about how I look?” Malachi stammered.
“You’re miserable. You look heartbroken. Like him. So tell me why isn’t this thing with Trent love?”
“It’s…different,” Malachi said, dumbfounded.
“How? How is it different?” Grady leaned towards him.
“It just is.” Malachi’s mind scrambled. He thought of Forathia. Of hearing his song for the first time. That instant shock of bone-deep love.
Then he thought of Trent. Of his shy smiles.
His blushes. The sweet, soft kisses in the aftermath of their sated desires.
Their whispered voices as they’d opened up to each other, cocooned beneath the blankets.
The gentle stroking of hands and tentacles over skin.
The lovemaking. The affection that had been slowly building inside Malachi.
And the wrenching loss of having that all gone in an instant.
“I don’t know,” Malachi rasped.
But there was something different. Wasn’t there?
“Well.” Grady huffed, clearly exasperated. “As long as you know what it is.” He stared at Malachi for several seconds.
Malachi said nothing. He could not think of anything to say. How could he when his mind whirled?
Grady shook his head. “Well, have a good day, Malachi. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Then he and Uzoth turned and left the store.
Malachi frowned at the closed door, his insides and thoughts a tangled mess.
And in his chest, that painful lump swelled and festered, growing even larger inside him. It rose into his aching throat, choking him. He could barely draw breath.
He paced back and forth behind the counter. Back and forth. Back and forth.
He couldn’t stand still. He walked in circles around the emporium. Even though it wasn’t closing time, he turned the sign to closed.
Grady’s words unnerved him. Made him uncertain and unsure. Because Malachi had no fucking clue what he was doing!
His body flushed hot. He tugged at buttons and fabric, trying to cool himself. He pulled his shirt open.
I’ll never see Trent again.
Malachi paused. He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and forced the air into his constricting lungs. He rubbed his hand over his throat, over that swelling ache that choked him.
“His love for you needs to fade. So he can move on.”
Grady’s words echoed. Malachi’s breath came too fast. His head swam. A broken groan escaped his throat as the pain consumed him. He knew Trent needed to stop loving him. It was for the best. But every nerve in his body rejected the idea.
His emotions and thoughts jumbled, like seaweed knotting together. He felt like he was trying to swim through them and kept getting caught in their grasps. He felt like he was drowning and didn’t know the way to the surface.
Then a memory hit him.
He remembered swimming through a dark, deep ocean, lost and confused and aching. The grief had been so overwhelmingly strong after Forathia’s death.
He felt the same way now.
Because he was grieving the loss of Trent.
“What is the difference between friends who are fucking and being in love with someone?” Grady’s words nagged at him.
Malachi opened his eyes. He flittered his gaze around the store, not knowing where to look or what to do. He stared at the drooping flower of the yellow sorrow.
What was the difference?
When he’d heard Forathia’s song so many years ago, the world had burst into shining colour and magic in a single instant.
Meeting Trent had been nothing like that. Not at all.
Trent had entered his emporium and his world so silently that Malachi had barely even noticed him. Over time he’d paid more attention to the nervous young human who kept coming into his store.
Then they’d started to get to know each other. And bit by bit, Trent had changed his world. He’d brightened it from a dull lifelessness until Malachi’s world burned once again with vibrant colours. It had come alive with beauty and joy and hope and magic.
And love.
Malachi stared at the yellow sorrow as cold realisation slid over him.
He’d assumed it couldn’t be love, since it looked nothing like the first time he’d experienced it. For his whole childhood, his head had been filled with stories of sirens falling in love. Of love that occurred when one first heard their mate song. Of love that was instantaneous.
He’d been so full of these stories and the memories of his own past love that he’d been oblivious to any other way that love could form.
Trent’s face filled his mind. Trent’s sweet, lovely face. The pain in his chest and throat spread through him until his hands and feet tingled with it. His vocal cords trembled.
And suddenly, the pain of the past few days made sense. He wasn’t just missing a friend. He was grieving a lost love.
Because Malachi had fallen in love. And then he had cast that love aside, breaking both their hearts.
Malachi gripped one of the shelves to keep himself upright as the truth smashed into him. He squeezed his eyes shut.
How could I have been such a fool?
He rubbed between his chest and throat, over the pulsing ache.
Then he froze.
Because the pain wanted to be released. And he’d not realised it until this moment. It had wanted—no, needed to come out, and he’d been so shut off from himself and his feelings that he’d been oblivious to the signs. He’d been oblivious to what this was.
Because he didn’t want to scream or cry out or shout.
He wanted to sing. He wanted to sing a siren song.
For the first time in over ten years, he wanted to sing, and he wanted to sing for Trent.
Taking several deeps breaths, he closed his eyes.
He listened to the stillness of the room.
He listened to his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He felt the air enter and exit his lungs.
And he felt the song vibrating inside him, needing to be sung.
It reverberated through him, demanding to be freed.
All his pain, love, hope, and fear swirled through him, building and building until there was no space left inside him.
He opened his mouth.
He sang.