Chapter 77 #3
“Clearly,” I scoffed, shaking my head while crawling over his lap, looping my arms around his neck, water pouring off the sleeves of my big t-shirt. “Psycho.”
“I love you.” He pressed his wet mouth to mine, stroking a hand down the back of my head, smoothing his palm over my soaked hair.
“And I love you.” I tapped his chest with a black-polished finger. “Are you taking a bath for any reason right now?”
He nodded, then sucked in a breath and slid down below the water. His brown eyes were open, staring up at me through ripples, a few bubbles drifting up to shimmer through the surface.
He knows how it feels to chase the seconds before death.
I never thought I’d find someone else like that, someone who felt the same inexplicable need to graze the edge of my own life, to fantasize about it. But I had. In water, just like this—only colder.
I held my breath and followed him under the surface, tucking my face against his chest, curled up in his arms, surrounded by warmth, my t-shirt floating loose around me. My hair swirled, curling tendrils brushing my arms and Mason’s bare chest, soothing me with its familiarity.
Of course I could probably never lay underwater in a bathtub with Mason again without thinking of that first time, when he’d learned about Anthony, but it didn’t have to consume me now.
It was simply a memory, a shark tooth or black feather on the beach, still tender, but healing.
A bruise, fading slowly from purple to gold.
Did you run away, too?
I listened to Mason’s heartbeat through the muffle of the water, so immeasurably grateful for the steady sound. Even if we’d deteriorated without Micah, I’d kept him alive.
I got to keep both of their heartbeats, tucked safe in my locket, resting between my collarbones.
Eventually, both of us broke through the surface again, but Mason kept my body tucked safely against his, warm water dripping off my nose and chin and eyelashes.
I traced rivulets of water down his chest, understanding why he’d always felt so inevitable to me.
Understanding why I’d felt my own death in the corners of my brain.
Understanding why we’d been so drawn to each other at the start.
None of this could’ve happened any other way.
All of the pain, all of the tears, the blood and bruises and violence underwater.
It was leading me here.
By the time we got out of the bath, the water was hardly warm, and the sun had set most of the way, shading the world with blue.
I took off the wet clothes and changed into dry ones. I kissed Mason. I stared at him through the mirror while I brushed my hair. He stared at me, too.
We went downstairs together, my wet clothes grasped in my fist. In the kitchen, Mason went to stand with Micah at the stove, saying something low in his ear before kissing his shoulder.
I scurried through the kitchen and out the door with my wet clothes, padding onto Micah’s back deck to lay them over the railing—then I froze. All the air in my chest was stuck in my lungs, clinging and aching, as my eyes tracked the subtle movement at the treeline.
Past the backyard, standing at the place where grass became a bed of pine needles, was a deer. Fading white spots on her tawny coat, her head down as she sniffed around for things to eat, ears flicking. My hands dropped to my sides. My eyes stung.
She lifted her head, on alert, and my chest squeezed.
But she only looked up for a moment before continuing to graze and sniff around. Her movements were graceful, even if slightly unpracticed. She was still young. Old enough to be on her own, but not fully confident in herself. Still learning how to navigate the world, how to take care of herself.
The breath that’d been caught in my lungs finally released, but the lump in my throat remained as I stared at her, watching her curious dark eyes, her soft white tail.
I had no idea how long I stood there without moving, staring into this mirror that stretched as far into my past as I could remember.
Long enough for one tear to slide down my cheek, but not two.
Long enough to feel my own grief and persistent sadness and hopeful love for this creature that didn’t know me, but not long enough to suffocate in all of it.
And when she finally found her way back into the forest, she wasn’t running this time. Wasn’t darting away from danger, sprinting with her fear, anxiety firing in her brain.
She was simply returning to her home. The shadows between the trees.
The safety of darkness.
Once she was gone, I turned, too. A soft shiver moved up my spine like careful fingertips, a breath of winter air spilling from my neon-sustained lungs.
My fingers grasped the doorknob and twisted it slowly, until the latch slid free.
Both Micah and Mason would be waiting for me when I went inside, my vast forest and my endless ocean, shadowed in their own ways, pulling me to themselves like infinite magnets.
One more inhale.
One more exhale.
Then I pushed the door open.
And I returned to my own safety, my own darkness.