Once you may have been a hero, but now you’re just a coward
24
My biggest fear was that Riftan would act as though that night never happened. Naively, I believed that would be the worst-case scenario.
I should have known better. Because, while I wanted more than anything to talk to Riftan about what was happening between us, he’d decided the solution was contrary. He wasn’t pretending it’d never happened; the man was ignoring me. Two days in a row, he’d locked himself in our bedroom, sharing with me nominal moments in passing where he’d say, “I’m not ready to talk about it,” and then withdraw to his hidey-hole.
He’d atoned the second night, pleading for my forgiveness before locking me out of our room again. But no apology could warm my vacant sheets, and I hated the situation he was putting us in.
Just my luck, Riftan was determined to prove to me exactly what “worst-case” was.
At our kitchen counter, late into the morning when I’d almost given up waiting for him, Riftan settled onto the bar stool next to me. He narrowed a cold gaze at the granite but hadn’t said a single word past “good morning” since emerging from our bedroom. The weight of his look said he was saving his words for something more important than small talk. Then, he detonated the bomb I’d been trying to pretend hadn’t been ticking away in the peripherals of our relationship.
“Leanne, I want you to leave.”
“Pardon?” It seemed like a derisory joke, and certainly not the proper conversation starter I expected over our first shared cup of coffee in nearly forty-eight hours.
His gaze fixed on mine, the sea in his eyes painting a clear but unbreakable resolve. “I’ve taught you above and beyond everything you’d need to know to safely live on your own. I have faith that now is a good time to part ways.”
Clutching my mug, it took several moments to catch my breath, the action of filling my lungs taking conscious thought. In my stead, Riftan offered little more than an unchanging, tight-lipped expression and a thick silence.
My retort was forced through my teeth. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”
“I wasn’t asking, Leanne.”
“Is this about the other night?” I griped. “If it is, then I will pretend that it never happened.” I’d do anything to stay with him, no matter how much I hated it.
“It’s not necessarily about the other night. You need to go out and start your own life. Letting you do anything else would be irresponsible on my part.” Still no change in his guise. “The other night was merely what made me realize that now is the time to insist on your departure. I know now that my restraint is declining, and I can’t resist you like I thought I could anymore. That’s why you can’t continue to stay with me.”
What a roller coaster of emotions that confession was.
He went on when I was too shaken to spit out my own words. “Please don’t be angry with me. I want you to go out and live all those lives that you get to live now. Immortals are the only people who get this kind of chance. I changed you so you could get it, too. I want that for you, and I think you should want it too. There are so many new things for you to experience on your own—an endless number of new opportunities with each life you explore.”
“But a life with you? That’s not one I’m allowed to have or explore?”
“No. I don’t want you to continue blindly following my existence. I want you to create your own.”
My voice raised in pitch, no matter how hard I tried not to yell at Riftan. “That isn’t fair to me, Riftan. You must know that I don’t want to leave you. The thought of leaving you hurts more than anything I can imagine. Aside from the feelings I have for you, you’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”
His resolution cracked, if only slightly, his brows crouching over dark eyes. “I’ll still always be your friend. I’ll always be here for you, never more than a phone call away. Losing friends in this day and age is nearly impossible, right?”
A heaviness in my throat ached with a welling emotion that begged for release. It boded tears—the kind that only piled on with the idea that I couldn’t let them loose. Not here—not now—in the face of his strength. Planting my hands on the counter, I feigned courage. “What am I supposed to do without you? Without your positivity or someone to share my dreams with?” My voice cracked before I could finish my sentence—so much for feigning that courage.
Remarkably, I wasn’t the only one stirred by that. Dropping his face into his hands, Riftan’s demeanor crumbled into smithereens. “Leanne, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he begged, pain punctuating every word.
I laid it on, hoping to pull on his heart a little more—almost like I wanted to see if it was possible. “What am I supposed to do every night if you aren’t there to hold me, or to dance with me, or to tell me that I’m yours…” Heaviness turned to a shooting pain in my throat and the reality was that I couldn’t stop the tears, whether I wanted to or not. “I thought I was yours and you were mine.”
“Stop,” Riftan snapped, his head shooting upright, heavy eyes settling over me. Any further response was only the harsh shake of his head, the muscles in his jaw flaring to show how violently he fought to hold back his contention.
“Riftan, please don’t make me leave. I can’t—I don’t want to live without you… I love you.” A handful of tears dribbled off my cheeks, warm and wet. They were errant, and I had to force the forte to stop before they got out of hand.
Riftan’s eyes flinched, the only evidence of emotion escaping the windows to his soul before he obscured his face from view, this time rubbing a finger over his brows. Muffled through his hands, he grumbled, “Why can’t you appreciate this for what it is? It’s better for both of us this way.”
For both of us?Did he want me out of his hair? He’d never acted like that was the case. Separation was supposed to be for my good. This whole time, we’d been feigning some thin lines because he didn’t want me getting hurt by him. Our lack of romanticism was so I wouldn’t end up brokenhearted. Or so he’d said.
And yet, those lines were never there to stop him, they were there to stop me. We could touch on his terms, cuddle on his terms, love on his terms, because that’s how he was in control. Riftan could control when feelings were felt, but only for himself. I was along for the ride—a casualty of histerms. Words fell like icicles from my lips. “Was it really ever my heart that you were concerned about being broken, or was it yours?”
He didn’t answer—which was answer enough with him.
My chest felt cold, whipped by some internal frostbitten breeze when I realized how little control I truly had in this situation. Any semblance of equality between Riftan and me had only ever been a well-established ruse, and I’d always known that.
The delusive cold left my remaining argument sounding numb. “You already have my heart. Making me leave will break it. But you’re willing to let that happen as long as it’s not you getting hurt, right? As long as you’re in control of the situation like you always are. Is that all you care about? Are you truly that stubborn and scared?”
His face emptied, devoid of any emotion, even the anger that hinted on his tongue. “I’m giving you the control of getting to leave on your own accord. If you refuse, then I will leave you, and I assure you that’ll hurt you a lot more.” He blinked, sipping from his mug with a nonchalance that belonged at a Sunday brunch. Any passion in his eyes had subdued, no longer giving me the satisfaction to see inside.
For some reason, that hurt me less. Sometimes Riftan exhibited the most emotion by shutting himself off to those feelings. It was somewhere I’d only seen him a few times before, but it always looked the same. I could recognize his version of empathy in letting me push him to that point. Regardless, the conversation was over. Emotionally, he had nothing left to give me, and any argument I voiced would be spoken to a brick wall.
Careful not to share any of my own precious emotions with him, I offered my closing statement. “Once upon a time, you may have been a hero. But now you are just a coward.”
He gave me little more than a flinch and deflected his gaze onto the countertop.
That seemed like a shitty way to end things, so I added, “Thanks for your honesty, Riftan. I’ll be out of your hair by midnight, but I hope you have a wonderful eternity.” Then I left him.
I’d have to pack a few things from my room, but it wouldn’t take long, and I wouldn’t drag it out. Though I wanted to hang my emotions out to dry right then and there, it didn’t feel right to let Riftan hear me cry over this. He didn’t deserve to witness the proof of how much this hurt me.
At my bedroom door, I made the mistake of taking one last look over my shoulder to where Riftan had his head on the counter. He combed a hand through his hair, brushing the dark strands away from his neck. A shaky sigh flattened his back, feeling like it’d emanated from my own lungs. No matter how pissed I was at him, feeling that shared moment reminded me he’d hurt from this, too. He was stubborn and selfish, but he had the same feelings for me that I’d grown for him. Sharing them wasn’t pleasant. There was no justice in knowing his pain.
It took all my willpower to tear my eyes from him and dip into my room.
Since I had very little to my name that wasn’t ours, packing was short. A couple of clothing items, my electronics, and some shoes were all I owned. Looking at my entire life—so insignificant that it fit into a carry on—broke me.
If I could have things my way, I’d pack that entire condo in a suitcase and bring it everywhere with me. I wanted to bundle up every memory, every little emotion I’d felt there, and put it in my bag. Reliving the last three years on repeat seemed like the only thing that could fix what was breaking. My biggest fear was that those memories were now tainted, and nothing would repair this feeling I had.
Unfortunately, I had more pressing fears I needed to face first, and at the top of that list was: where the hell do I go now?
I’d never been alone. After my mom died, I had Jayleen’s family, and after that, I had Johnny. I’d always depended on someone for something, or at least had people around me who understood my situation. Now, who would I lean on? I was more isolated than when I’d been an orphan, or the plaything for a fucking mob boss. The only kinship I’d find these days was other immortals, and even then, most of them were hundreds of years older than me. What did we have in common besides an interest in blood? We weren’t peers—certainly not friends. Riftan and Jameson were the only immortals I ever had any real connection with… maybe I needed to give others the same kind of chance I’d given them.
Dredging away my fears, I took my suitcase in hand and made for the front door.
It was all happening so fast, but that’s how it needed to be. The longer I stayed, the harder leaving would be. But Riftan was always right: if he’d left first, it’d hurt so much more. Even if he was forcing it, this way I would still be walking out of this condo with my dignity. And dignity was the only thread left holding back my tears.
Riftan waited at the door for me. Seeing him through my teeming tear ducts was gut wrenching, but thinking that was the last time I could ever see him was heart shattering.
Under all of my superficial disdain for what he was putting me through, I still loved him, and this wasn’t how I wanted to remember him. I didn’t want my last image of him to be marred by blurry tears or distinguished by the defeated hunch that put him nearly the same height as me.
No matter how much saying goodbye would hurt, I wanted him to do it with his head held high. I wanted him to remind me how tall he could stand, show me how bright the flame behind his eyes could burn, and smile—just one last smile. But he didn’t. He kept his hands in his jean pockets and his chin tied to the floor. Opening the door for me, he didn’t make eye contact until I was at the threshold.
“Lee…” He didn’t reach for me like that statement usually foreshadowed. “I…” He straightened up, only nominally closer to the image of him I wanted to see. Clearing his throat, Riftan asked, “Can you promise me one thing before you go?”
“What is it?” I forced composure by way of counted breaths.
“Please promise that you will reach out to me if you ever need help. No matter what it is, I will come running.”
“Alright. Don’t change your phone number then, because that’s the only way I know to get ahold of you.” I managed a smile.
He attempted the same, but it fell, dragging mine with it.
Leaving it on that, I broke away, passing him without another look.
“Be good,” he told me, like one might say to their dog before letting them out to potty or a child before dropping them off at daycare.
“I never am.” I was no obedient dog, and certainly not a virtuous child.
I left him, and this time I wouldn’t make the mistake of looking back. It didn’t matter what look he had while watching me go. It didn’t matter what emotions he wore or which ones he shrouded. He was behind me—everything we had was behind me—and I couldn’t allow myself to look back. Not on any of it. Not now that I was so boldly going forward.