Chapter 6
HAL
“What happened, Troza? Is she alright?”
“She needs to rest; her heart rate was accelerating alarmingly. Something to be expected when someone informs you that your life has once again been rewritten on a page you have no control over.”
“I will find a way to give her what she needs.”
“Really HaL? She is a soft skin, a being that is used to warm climates and the atmospheres that go with them. Tell me the last time you went to a beach? Or how about a long trek through the Timbers, or the Guardians on Darverius? If I remember correctly, your father had to set up a specialized, cooled dome so you could train alongside your brothers. A place where DeS suffered mild frostbite because you two got distracted with new phasers. You are who you are, HaL.”
“I want her to be happy.”
Troza walks behind me so that she can slowly take out one of Dawn’s healing ports.
“My sweet youngling, I understand that more than you realize. For a short time, I believe you will be able to, but her kind needs warmth. Something as deadly to you as the cold is to her.”
She pats my shoulder before heading to the doorway. “HaL, sometimes the only thing we can do for the ones we love is to let them go. You two could not be more opposite, and that breaks my heart.”
I watch Troza walk out, my heart heavy with her words.
From the first moment I saw Dawn, I knew there was no future for us.
Something deep inside me understood it before my heart ever had a chance to catch up.
I know there are too many obstacles between us, too many reasons wanting her is foolish, and that letting myself grow attached will only end in pain.
Yet knowing that doesn’t stop me from wanting her.
Now that she is here, my beast refuses to let her go.
He stirs beneath my skin whenever I look at her, restless and possessive, as though some ancient part of me has already decided that Dawn belongs at our side.
He does not care about the reasons we cannot be together.
He cares not about the consequences. He only knows that she is here and that he cannot bear the thought of losing her.
The very idea of her boarding a ship and flying away makes my chest tighten.
I can feel the beast reacting already, his fury building beneath my carefully held control.
If Dawn leaves, I know he will go mad. He will fight every command I give him, and in his frenzy, he will destroy everything around us.
That thought alone terrifies me.
Because I do not know which is worse … losing Dawn or losing myself to the beast that refuses to accept her absence. I close my eyes and let out a weary sigh. There is nothing I can do.
I will not promise Dawn a future I know I cannot give her. I will not ask her to stay if staying could put her in even greater danger. And I cannot silence the part of me that has already grown attached to her, no matter how desperately I try.
So, I stop fighting the unknown. For now, I will simply cherish her.
Hold on to every moment I am given, every conversation, every smile, every fleeting touch.
I will memorize the sound of her voice and the way my heart feels when she is near.
Perhaps that is all I can have. A handful of moments with the woman my heart knows I cannot keep.
I lay my head down on the side of the bed next to her leg, my own body drained from lack of rest as I have stood over her these last risings, counting every breath and heartbeat, waiting for her to wake.
The calm I have yearned for all my life lies before me, and instead of feeling relieved or even happy that she is within arm’s reach, all my mind can do is catalog the issues ahead.
The sweat on my body seems constant now, and I shake off the discomfort as I would stand in a pool of lava simply to be by her side. With that thought, I let the fatigue pulling on me so insistently to conquer not only me but my beast as well. We have a long battle ahead.
I have no idea how long I have rested, but the feeling of small tugs on my long hair has me slowly sitting up, only to find bright gray eyes staring at me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just couldn’t resist sinking my hands into all that glorious hair of yours. I love all these braids and the adornments … you’ll have to teach me how to do this one day.”
“My fur is dull, unlike the fire that shimmers inside of yours.”
“I get that fire and my temper from my dad. My brother was lucky and took after Mom … not only did he get her dark hair, but the curls to match. Mine is poker-straight if I don’t braid it after I wash it. But my hands have never created such intricate ones as yours.”
She looks away from me only to bite her lower lip, and I can tell this subject bothers her. And just as I start to change the subject, she starts talking.
“Asher was eight years older than me and my sworn protector. I was an accident … Mom and Dad often teased me about that, like somehow it was my fault that those two were still making out like teenagers no matter their age.
I spent a lot of time with my mom, and I can’t tell you how many stories she’d tell me about Asher and how he would carry me everywhere, like I was his baby and not hers.
She would find him sleeping in my crib on random nights or me in his bed when I was being overly fussy.
That was something of a constant when I was a baby.
Mom often referred to my first year as hell because nothing they did made me happy.
It took the doctors forever to figure out just how severe my allergies were. After that, my family did their best to make me as comfortable as possible, especially at home.
For example, it became normal for them to change clothes in the garage before coming into the house so they wouldn’t bring anything in that could worsen my allergies.
Most medication upset my stomach, so if I was not sneezing or breaking out in a rash, I was throwing up.
All I ever wanted was to be like everyone else; spend the night with a friend, go on a shopping trip, or even ride a roller coaster.
But the allergies always got worse in the summer months, practically forcing me to stay inside until the leaves were gone and most of the greenery was dead.
Everyone thought I would outgrow them, but they only grew worse as I got older. That forced me to spend my last two years of high school being homeschooled, so no proms or senior pictures for me. Nope! Just more isolation.
Making friends became almost non-existent since I was either in a hospital or practically quarantined from my last attack.
For as long as I can remember, Asher had been my rock.
He was determined to find a cure, no matter how long it took.
I can’t count the number of nights he stayed home with me when he should have been out with his friends.
Maybe it was because he’d been there beside me so many times when doctors promised that the latest treatment would finally fix me, only for it to fail once again.
Asher had watched me cry myself to sleep, watched me lose hope little by little, until eventually, I stopped fighting.
I let the allergies take over my life, and Asher was there through every painful step.
Sick of the doctors and their false hopes, he decided he was going to fix me himself! He went to college and majored in Allergy Immunology … yeah, go figure, they have an entire course dedicated to me and the many others who suffered as I do ... did.”
Dawn gets quiet, but the entire time she was talking, she has been playing with my hair, so I have simply sat still, trying to absorb everything that brought her here to me.
The emotions on her face seem to change constantly, but the one thing I notice the most is that she is looking past me to the wall.
Her eyes are unfocused as she relives some of the best and worst times in her life.
I do not think that when she started talking, she meant to tell me any of this, but I absorbed every word, as I long to know more about her.
“My entire family suffered because of me, because of the things my affliction had taken from me. Somehow, they had let my limitations become their own, carrying guilt whenever they laughed, traveled, or did something I could no longer do. They put their lives on hold because they loved me.
That was why, after years of watching Mom and Dad postpone the cruise they’d always dreamed about, I finally made them promise to go.
I wanted them to take pictures of everything.
I wanted them to laugh, be silly, and act like teenagers again.
Most of all, I made them promise there would be no surprise pregnancy this time.
I would be fine.
At least, that was what I kept telling them.
I was preparing to be admitted to a special wing in Asher’s department where they would conduct more extensive studies.
There was nothing my parents could do for me there except sit beside my bed and stare at the walls.
I couldn’t bear the thought of them giving up another moment of their lives just to watch me suffer.
Mom worried about leaving me. I could hear it in her voice, see it in her eyes. But I kept reassuring her that I was in good hands and she, of all people, should have known that.
When it came to my parents, I had been incredibly lucky. I just hadn’t understood how lucky I was until it was almost too late. I hadn’t been an easy child. Far from it. But Mom had always blamed that on my hair.
Anyhow, I was lying in another hospital bed with what felt like hundreds of needles stuck all over me, while Asher was working on his tablet, slowly logging each one and its results as he removed them one at a time.