- 27 -
June 2045
Dean
Hallee’s nails digging into my chest wake me up. Tears are pooling underneath the pained expression on her face.
“Hallee,” I whisper, gently rubbing her back.
“Hal!” My voice is louder this time, more demanding, but she still doesn’t stir.
As I kiss her forehead, she finally startles awake. Immediately pushes off my chest, and the distance slaps me in the face.
“It was a dream! It was a dream, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her hands reach up, wiping away the flowing river on her face.
“Why? You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I woke you up! Did I wake them up too?”
She points to the living room, where Hudson and Matt crashed on the couch. We were all too shit-faced after dinner to even think about calling a car. Hallee insisted we stay, grabbed my hand, and led me through her bedroom door as if she’d done it ten times before. Was a little too confident, actually. How many men has she led in here?
“No, you weren’t loud—you were crying.”
“Oh,” she breathes.
“Are you okay?”
Her hesitation cracks my heart.
“It hasn’t happened in a while. I thought I was over it.”
“Over what?”
“My nightmares. They used to happen often but have slowed down.”
“Wait, this is normal for you?”
“I’m okay. Really. I don’t know why it came back tonight.”
The uncertainty in her voice argues against her claim.
“What was it about?”
I don’t want to know, but I want to know. Think I already do.
“The best I can come up with is fear. Fear of being forgotten. It’s always me, alone and surrounded by darkness. No matter how much I scream, no one comes because no one remembers and I’m oblivion’s next victim. It drags its claws as it creeps to collect me.”
“But—that’s our life.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, eyes all glassy.
Her deepest fears have sucked the breath from my lungs. If I inhale too quickly, I might throw up.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think the purpose of it all is?”
Her vulnerability hangs in the air, begging for Superman, but the answer I have is simple. It won’t be enough to ease the screaming complexities of her mind, but it’s the only one to give because I really do believe it.
“To enjoy it.”
“But—” Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and I know. The voice in her head just got a hell of a lot louder.
“But everyone is unique. What if enjoying life means something different for every single person? How can an umbrella decision be best for all of us?”
My woman’s angry. Her tone is laced with disgust.
“I don’t—”
“My thoughts, Dean. They never stop. It’s a constant stream of overwhelming questions, but when I dive further into them, I’m left circling back to square one with empty hands and an anxious mind. It’s vicious, exhausting, and overwhelmingly unsettling.”
“You have to let them go, Hal.”
“I’ve been trying all year! No matter what I do, they won’t shut off. They demand to exist.”
“No, I don’t mean turn them off. That would change you , and there’s nothing about you that needs to be changed. Acknowledge them, and release them with the next breath. Don’t hold them under a magnifying glass, and don’t allow them to dim your light.”
“I don’t understand how I’m supposed to not think about the thoughts that literally exist to be thought about. There has to be a reason . . . or some sort of way I can use them.”
Holding her is the only defense I can offer, and as her eyes find mine, she shatters into a million pieces.
Shards slice into my arms as she sobs. “I want to be defined by a great, lasting love.”
“Hallee—”
“I want to be great, Dean. Someone who changed the world for the better. Who made darkness feel less scary and sadness feel less lonely. The kindest, the selfless, the extraordinary, empathetic, authentic, brave . That is how I want to be remembered but—”
Her voice breaks as tears send stripes down her face.
“They took away my potential, and now I’m anxiety’s favorite meal, plated and served every time I’m alone, or every time I look in a mirror, or close my fucking eyes. I just want my mind to stop. Please, how do I make it stop?”
“I don’t think you do, Hal.”
Her nails dig into her skin, and there’s no air in this room to breathe.
“What are you doing? Hallee, stop!”
“I don’t know, I just—I need it to stop. I feel dirty. Like it’s written all over my skin that I’m crazy and I—”
“You’re not crazy.”
She’s going to rip herself apart.
“I’m so afraid—of the here and now, of the then and later. Deep in my bones I wish that we could be marked by a lifetime of our great love, but time races on, and while I dream about forever, it slips through my fingertips like a handful of sand, falling to be carried away by the tide. Everything I dream of is impossible. I’m insignificant. I have no reason—”
“I’ll be your reason.”
Her hand flies up to cradle the pain on my face.
“I will be your reason. Me, Avery, Marlowe, hell, even Matt and Hudson now. They love you already.”
“I know,” she bites. Odd, considering the great night we just had.
“Smiling at strangers on the street. Surprising Lea by knowing her name. Reading. Selling stories you believe in with Miles. Experiencing changing seasons. Beautiful sunflowers. Carefully painted sunsets.”
“What are you—?”
“Laughing with your roommates. Setting off the smoke alarms. Drinking too much wine. Drinking too much coffee. Dancing to Taylor Swift. Singing in the shower. Looking at the light. Me.”
She sniffles. Thank God, she’s breathing. At least one of us is.
“All excellent reasons, and next year, you’ll find a million other ones. Selfishly, I hope none are as great as me. I hope I’ll always be your favorite because someday, something will happen that will make my heart remember you. You will always be mine.”
“Please don’t leave me,” she begs. Knows it was an unfair ask, and her eyes apologize for it.
“Never.” I hope.
“Will you hold me?”
“Always and forever.”