Landon #3
“You feel empty now,” Nate continues. “You feel as if a piece of yourself has been ripped from your body, and now you don’t know how to deal with that hole inside of you.”
He’s reaching into the deepest, darkest depths of my soul with every word he speaks. Nate is living inside of me, tormenting me with the thoughts I’ve been shoving away for days.
And it hurts. It’s like being burned alive or drowning from the inside out. What do I say to this? How can I manage another word?
“I can help you feel full again,” he murmurs. “And not just sexually. I can scare the darkness away and hold you so tightly that you can’t possibly fall apart.”
God, that sounds so good. It feels like a reprieve, a gift. But I’ve spent too many nights alone battling the darkness since the warehouse. Where was he then? Why is he just now trying to fix it?
“Then you should have called,” I tell him. “You said that you’d call.”
Nate sighs, a defeated and miserable sound. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. I figured… It doesn’t matter now. I should have called; you’re right.”
“I can’t get a good night’s rest. I wake up in fear that I’m still locked in that warehouse, believing you’ll come and save me.
” Now that I’m speaking, the words won’t stop.
“I can’t get that phone call out of my head; the one in which you say you’ll destroy me.
When I look at you, I feel how useless I am now.
How you are still powerful and special, and I’m this. ”
“You are not useless,” Nate insists, dropping his hand from the door and running his fingertips along my good arm. “You are just as extraordinary as you were when you forced me to make your tea.”
I can’t help it—I smile.
But before I can speak, Nate continues. “And if you can’t sleep, if every time you wake up it’s to fear, then I’ll replace it with something warmer. When you come to shaking and confused, I’ll put you right back into the sky to lie with your stars, and I’ll hold you until you fall asleep again.”
My stars. He says it as if they belong to me—as if, now that I’m powerless and empty, he’s willing to share his gift with me and fill me right back up again.
There are so many moving parts to this: how to forgive him for beginning such a torturous downfall, the dreams I can’t escape, the gift that’s been living inside of me since I was fifteen years old having died so brutally.
And in the midst of this whirlwind of a struggle I’m now forced to live, there’s affection.
There is a yearning I can’t escape and a large piece of me that wants what he’s promising me so badly.
Can either of us put aside the flaws we see and turn that previous hatred into something soft and beautiful? Do either of us want that?
“What do you want from me, Nate?” I ask softly.
His chin lifts from my shoulder, taking my good arm and spinning me gently to face him. My back hits the door with a dull thud, his chest expanding against my own with every breath.
And those eyes—honey brown and quirked up at the ends—drill into me with such need, such unseen devotion, that I can’t breathe.
“I want you to stay,” he confesses. “I don’t want you to never speak to me again. We don’t have to get married. Fuck, we don’t even have to date. I’d be yours, and you’d be mine, that’s all.”
That’s all. Except it kind of sounds like everything.
For a moment, I’m dumbstruck by how familiar this moment feels to me. How, not that long ago, I was stuck in a bathroom and pleading with Julian to stay with me. That I would forget the comfort I need, if only he would stay.
“Do you want to date?” I press. “Do you want marriage?”
Nate cracks a small smile, his fingers pressing gently into the skin on either side of my neck. “I want all of you, any way I can have it. Even the annoying, grating parts.”
Now I’m grinning, and I swear that even without his power of illusion working its magic, this entire room is that little pocket of the sky Nate has given to me. We’re somewhere private and beautiful, surrounded by warmth and light and everything that brings me comfort.
That darkness that lives inside of me begins to recede, as if it’s just now noticing Nate’s presence and is running in horror. My body feels lighter, my mind clearer.
“Is this a yes?” Nate asks as I raise a hand to rub over his jaw softly.
“No,” I whisper. And as his face falls into something devastating, I add, “But I’ll reconsider after you tell me what happened to you. Once I understand.”
A heavy sigh leaves his mouth, fanning my face as he nods once. “Alright, little Lanny. I’ll tell you everything. Just, uh, not right now, okay? Can we talk about this another time?”
It’s almost like he needs to prepare himself for it. He looks paranoid and tired, if not a bit frightened.
“Sure,” I reply. “But you aren’t fucking me until we do.”
Nate chuckles, and it’s such a relieved and beautiful sound I could cry listening to it. “That’s fine. I’m just… fuck, I’m so sorry about everything. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” I assure him. “And after you tell me what you’re hiding, I’ll feel it too.”
A knock sounds on the door I’m leaning against before Julian’s voice rings out. “Landon? I brought up most of the snacks. You coming?”
Bastard. I bet he planned this entire fucking thing after having that talk with me. It would definitely explain the weird reactions I was getting from Cameron and Atlas earlier.
“Uh, yeah. Coming,” I shout back.
Nate turns and grabs the platter he had been working on, passing it to me. “I’ll call you soon, alright?”
Nate has assured me that he’d call me so many times before, and yet I still feel comforted. Assured. I think he will call.
“Okay,” I murmur, reaching behind myself to grab the doorknob. “I’ll just… talk to you then.”
He nods, giving me one last smile as I slip out of the kitchen.
A few hours later, I’m lying on my back in the guestroom at Chastain Castle. We stayed up way later than I thought we would, with Atlas and Cameron becoming delirious with laughter and Atticus watching fondly. And of course, Julian was the source of all the laughter with his charming humor.
It was nice spending time with them. Much nicer than it was before I went to the kitchen, because suddenly, I didn’t feel as lonely.
Plus, I’m starting to really like Atlas. He’s sassy and genuine, if not a bit childish at times. The more I watch him and Julie together, the more I realize how perfect they are for each other.
Julian needs someone just as goofy and good-natured as he is—I never could have made him happy. I’m too standoffish, too aggressive and bratty.
And all of those things are quirks that Nate either adores or loves to hate, and I find both options very suitable if it means his hands return to me.
A soft rap sounds against the guestroom door, and for a moment, my heart rate picks up, anticipating Nate sneaking in despite my saying I wouldn’t sleep with him.
Instead, Julian is the one to push open the door, closing it behind himself gently before he falls onto his stomach next to me on the bed.
I never thought I’d see the day when Julian sneaks into a dark room to see me, and I’d be mildly disappointed.
“How did it go?” he asks, resting his head in his palm as he peers down at me.
For a moment, we’re little boys again. We’re lying in my bed, about to play on my Xbox or telling each other secrets in the dark.
“I knew it was you who orchestrated this,” I joke, jabbing my fingers into his side.
He chuckles, shoving my hand away. “Well, something had to be done. I couldn’t stand you looking so miserable.”