23. Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MAVEN
Another day passes, and I’m done waiting.
I drag the brush through my wet hair, wincing as it catches on tangles formed during my neglect that the shower did not cure. Water droplets splash against my bare shoulders, each one a tiny shock of cold. The bite of it is nothing against the numbness encasing me, though.
A stranger’s eyes stare back at me through the mirror—embarrassingly hollow and empty. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after three days of existing in a gray haze where time stretches and contracts without pattern or purpose.
I wanted to give him time. Hoped he would defy my request and return because isn’t that what he does? Ignore the petty demands of a mortal when it suits him? But he hasn’t come back…not even in my dreams, where I’ve searched for him endlessly, calling his name until my dream-throat burns.
I sigh, whirling away from the mirror. Over my dead body will I look into a mirror ever again.
These last days have been torture, but I think what’s hurt the most is the lack of new flowers.
The absence of those delicate, pressed blooms each morning cuts far deeper than I expected.
I both love and hate him for respecting my wishes so completely.
And I’m angry at my past self for complaining about those damn flowers when they appeared each morning.
What I wouldn’t give to have them back.
I just—I don’t know what to do. How do I get them—him—back? A scream builds in the bottle of my throat as I march to the jar, heart hammering a mile a minute.
I can’t take this anymore. These past days have shown me just how much I need him; need his presence, his voice. How I crave the weight of his attention. Without him, I’m fading again and becoming translucent. A ghost haunting my own existence.
There’s nothing left for me in this world, nothing to hold onto. Nothing worth staying for.
My fingers brush the textured glass. Without another thought, I lift it, cradling it against my chest like it’s something precious.
It is, though, isn’t it? Each one represents a moment when he crossed worlds just to see me.
Just to leave evidence that I wasn’t alone, even when I believed myself to be.
The weight of the jar grounds me, heavier than it should be. Blood rushes through my ears as I slide down the wall, my thighs clenching at the icy, dust-covered floor.
There’s one thought that keeps me from uttering his name: what if he doesn’t come?
I mean, of course he won’t, he wouldn’t after what happened, but really…
what if he doesn’t? A million scenarios flutter through my brain, each one worse than the last. He’s moved on.
Found another soul to fixate on. Decided I’m as worthless as I claim and thinks about me with disgust on his face.
The panic rises, a tide threatening to drown me. My lungs constrict as they force each breath to be shorter than the last. As the jar slips in my sweat-slicked palms, I tighten my grip, grinding my teeth against dropping it and shattering the only real piece of him I have left.
No, I refuse to believe he’s given up. Not after centuries of waiting, searching for me in each life. He wouldn’t give up.
Plus, I do not belong here. I’ve known that since I was old enough to know anything. No person or place has ever welcomed or wanted me—they all sensed something rotten in my wiring.
But it wasn’t that; or, it wasn’t only that.
I’ve been truly disappearing these last weeks.
My colleagues forgetting me, unable to utter my name even when I present it.
Whole days where nobody’s eyes landed on me once.
The more of him I let in, the more of me leaked out, and I should be terrified about that.
I’m not. I’m relieved. Who fucking cares how crazy that sounds…I’m relieved that the world’s finally admitting what I always suspected: I was never meant to be here.
Shaking my head, I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes. A knot forms in my throat as I speak his name. “Ash.” That sounded weak and pathetic.
Two-hundred heartbeats pass before I accept that it didn’t work. Nothing happens aside from someone’s dog losing its mind outside.
I clear my throat and try again, louder, as I attempt to muster confidence. “Ash. I need to talk to you.”
Still nothing. The silence mocks me, yapping in my face about what a failure I am and how I’ll never see my god again. Threads in my chest constrict, and suddenly it’s painful to breathe as my stomach curls in on itself in an ugly little cramp.
Okay. Fine. That’s fine. He’s busy. He doesn’t lounge next to the doorway to this world, waiting at my beck and call. I cannot just snap my fingers and force him to materialize because I’ve finally sorted my dumbass head out after commanding he leave.
“I’m not going to yell at you,” I say to the ceiling.
“That’s not—I don’t do that. I mean, I did do that.
Obviously I did; that’s the problem, but I’m not going to do it again, so if that’s what you’re waiting for, you can stop.
” Words catch on my tongue. I don’t know what else to say, so I just mutter, “Please.”
Please is new. I’ve never begged for anything in my life, except to be free of it. But I’m begging now, the word torn from deep inside my soul, and fucking hell, he still doesn’t appear!
Do not jump to conclusions, Maven. I scoff, knowing myself too well.
Well, maybe he can’t hear me. Or he can and he’s waiting for something—
My shoulders straighten. Of course he’s waiting for something! I hurt him, and he deserves an apology.
It’s moments like these I realize just how pitiful I am. How many times did I practice how I would apologize? And I cannot remember a single one.
That’s a lost thought as the urge to say anything overwhelms me.
“I was wrong.” Wow, how revolutionary. “I was wrong, and I knew it the moment you left. I’ve been glued to this floor for days like a coward instead of just admitting how sorry I am.
” Deep breath. “I made a decision for the both of us in my panic because I thought I knew best. That was stupid, I know…not once in my life have I ever known what was best about anything. And yet I took that choice away from you to keep it for myself, because I decided you were better off without me.” A lone tear slips from my left eye.
Regardless if he is listening or not, saying this out loud feels good.
Freeing. “You get to decide what’s best for you.
I never asked. Instead, I screamed at you until you left. I’m so sorry.”
Not even the slightest disturbance of the air greets me. I lay my palm flat over my breast before pressing down hard, as if the flurry of static inside will be held back by my weak compression.
No, it’s fine. Just breathe. I can wait.
And wait, I do. Minutes pass, stretching into hours until the sun dips below the horizon.
Eventually, I’m swallowed by darkness, and only the faint glow of street lamps provides any reprieve.
Still, I wait. Not moving or turning on the light.
Occasionally, I’ll speak his name with the hope that he’ll finally answer, but he never does.
My back aches from sitting in one position for so long. Both legs went numb hours ago, fluttering pinches shooting through them each time I shift. A burn starts in my eyes as I struggle to keep them open.
“You said you loved me,” I whisper, the words barely making it to my ears. Another lump forms in my throat, which is just great.
Sleep beckons, so tempting with its sweet promise to take me from here. I’ll give in for just a moment. Close my eyes for a few minutes; that’s all I need—
Pain radiates through my skull as my head jerks back, something in my neck snapping as I work through this disorientation.
I’m still on the floor, and morning light filters through my meager curtains. Damn, I slept the entire night like this? No wonder I feel like shit.
And he still isn’t here. The stillness in the air tells me he never showed up, which only breaks me all over again.
I snatch the jar that slid from my grip and clutch it tight as a sob tears from my throat.
Then another. And another. Until I’m on my side again, curled around the flowers like they’re the only things keeping me from imploding.
After another self-pity fest, my eyes wander to the flowers while I ignore the severe hunger cramps. Their muted colors trigger a memory—
The garden stretches before me, flowers of every kind growing far above my head. It’s a maze of them, paths winding this way and that. I wish we could visit this greenhouse every day; it’s so beautiful.
“These are my favorites,” I say, stopping before a cluster of black dahlias. My fingers brush the petals, a tingling sensation traveling down my spine from their velvety softness.
Ash stands beside me, close enough that our shoulders would touch if he were actually here.
The man hums, the sound rich with affection. “They remind me of you—beautiful and complex, with hidden depths no one else deserves to see.”
I laugh at that as heat floods my face. “You’re a poet now?”
“Only for you,” he replies. His fingers brush over my cheek, and I swear I feel their warmth. I wish so badly that he could visit properly…what it would be like to touch him is something a girl can only dream of. “Only ever for you.”
As the memory fades, a new determination settles in my gut. I need to find him. Tell him I remember so much of our time together; tell him how sorry I am and that I understand now. I’m ready to go home.
But how? How do I reach across worlds when he won’t answer my call?
I pause, my body shooting to its feet. Of course I know the answer…if he won’t come to me, I’ll just have to compel him to.