46. Chapter 46
The cabin is quiet when we return, the door creaking shut behind us as I awkwardly step within on the kitten heels I had worn with my dress tonight.
My hands folded behind my back and turn just as Alex closes the door behind him, locking it out of habit.
The sound of the bolt sliding home is solid, and instead of sending my pulse skittering, it settles it.
I watch as he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the hook by the door. My eyes tracing the lean lines of his body as I slip off my shoes and line them up without thinking.
We move around each other easily, like we’ve done this a hundred times instead of once. The date of course, lingers between us. Not the specifics, but the food, the conversation, and the way his mouth curved when I laughed.
“Alex,” I call.
He looks up immediately. “Yes?”
I hesitate, then walk further into the cabin, stopping near the table. I rest my palms against the wood and ready myself for what comes next.
“I want to tell you something.”
“I’m listening,” he murmurs. Attentive as he folds his arms to his chest and waits on me.
I draw in a slow breath and start. “Tonight wasn’t what I expected.”
“That seems to be a recurring theme,” he replies smoothly.
I almost smile.
“I kept waiting for the moment I’d panic,” I admit softly. “Or bolt. Or feel like I needed to make a scene just to prove I still could.”
“And you didn’t,” he clarifies as if I wasn’t aware.
“No, and I think that’s part of my problem with all of this. Because the date was nice, but its surface level, and I still feel like I don’t understand you. Not truly.”
His brows furrow. “Most people don’t.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I straighten, resolve hardening my spine. “I understand what you do. I understand the danger, the control, the way you move through the world like rules are optional. But I don’t understand what it feels like to be you.”
He nods, looking down at his crossed ankles as he tries to decide whether this is mere curiosity or something more.
“I get that it troubles you, Sadie.”
I push off the table and take a few slow steps toward him, stopping a careful distance away.
“I keep thinking about what you said about connection and pressing where it hurts. And we can have the conversation a thousand different ways about how I react to you, but I want to meet you where you stand.”
“How do you suppose doing that?”
“I want to walk in your shoes,” I reply carefully.
His jaw tightens for a moment as his gaze flits between my eyes, searching for something I’m not sure he will find.
“That’s not a casual request, little fox.” He whispers.
“I know,” I breathe. “I’m not asking lightly.”
“You are asking to see things that cannot be unseen.”
“I’ve already seen some of them and I’m still here,” I shrug.
He exhales and nods. “You think this is what will make you understand me?”
“I think it’ll stop me from guessing, and guessing just seems far more dangerous.”
He taps his foot to the floor, a habit I think that is much like when my knee starts bouncing.
“Understanding me won’t give you control.” He points out.
“No,” I sigh. “I think it’ll grant me context though.”
He bites down on the inside of his cheek, and I watch in real time as something subtle changes in his expression. It’s not a swift change, but dragged out over several long seconds of dense silence.
“You surprise me,” he says quietly.
“Get used to it.”
He snorts, shaking his head as he looks past me to the cabin and the forest beyond. Contemplating what I’m asking him but what I haven’t said out loud yet.
“You sure you want that kind of proximity to something that destroys people?” He challenges softly.
“Yes.”
“You believe you can withstand it?” He presses.
“I believe I can choose it,” I correct.
“I know you saw things inside of Pitch, Sadie. But running away from it and being a part of it are entirely different things. I’d be putting you in the middle of something that is very real and can be very ugly.” He clarifies.
“I know.”
“With people who might not walk away when pressed.”
“I know this.”
“And it would be with me, fully in my element. Fully myself.” He presses as if I don’t already know. As if I’m not aware of this side of him.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” He frowns.
“I am aware of the risks, Alex. I want to go. I want to watch you and understand you.”
“That’s not an answer, little fox.” He murmurs and pushes forward, his fingers sliding to cup my jaw.
“I’m okay with you,” I whisper.
“And if I say no?” He parrots my words back to me from earlier.
“I want to tell you that nothing changes, Alex, but I don’t think we can continue as we are.” I try to make him see my point. Try to prove to him that we can’t be one thing and not the other. That if he expects me to open up all my ugly to him, then the road has to go both ways.
“You will see me without filters or curation.”
“I get that, and I’m not asking to be a tourist to be entertained.” I counter.
“I’m not sure you would be.” He murmurs and rubs his thumb along my jaw. My eyes track his as they try to pick apart whatever he thinks he can find simply in the distance between us. He takes a deep breath, and shocks me just a tiny bit.
“Alright, then.”
“Yeah?” I breathe.
“Yeah,” he confirms.
“When?” I ask.
“There’s another event soon. I just have to let them know I’m coming with a guest.” He murmurs and strokes his thumb to my pulse.
I search myself for any hesitation at the request. I really do, I dig deep and nothing comes up but this strange bubble of excitement. There is fear, yes, but there is also a blinding clarity that I am so ready to understand.
“We just have to prepare a few things first,” he murmurs and leans forward to press his lips to my brow. A gesture I’ve found he’s doing more and more here lately. Something that doesn’t seem like him at all, but sends the annoying little butterflies in my stomach fluttering.