Chapter 19 #3
So I let the tears fall, let them soak into his sleeve, and let myself grieve about what happened with Finn, and everything, really.
The crash. The years I lost. The girl I used to be.
I cry like I haven’t cried in years, and when I finally settle completely, when my body quiets and the tremors fade, Luc shifts.
He turns me over gently, and his blue eyes find mine. All soft and steady, like he’s trying to check for cracks in the surface, not realizing I’m already splintered through.
“What happened?” he murmurs, brushing a bit of hair from my forehead with the back of his fingers.
“I had a fight with Dane.”
“Dane?” he asks, confusion cut into his forehead. “Not Greer?”
My heart stutters. Not enough to give me away, but enough to feel it, right in the ribs, right where it already aches. I swallow it, pack it tight, and lock it away.
“No.”
“Okay.” He nods, not looking convinced in the slightest. “What about?”
“I had some big feelings,” I mutter. “He had some big feelings too.”
Luc hums thoughtfully. “Oh, I know having big feelings. My maman always says you’re entitled to your big feelings whenever you want, but you’re still responsible for the way you make others feel while you’re feeling those feelings.”
“That’s… weirdly wise.”
He grins. “She’s terrifying and powerful. I love her.”
“Yeah?” I ask, not even sure which part I’m asking about.
“Yeah,” he answers anyway. “She’s my best friend. Next to Toulouse.”
“Must be nice. I don’t have a mom.”
His expression softens even more. “I don’t have a dad anymore.”
“I don’t like my dad.”
He exhales slowly. “Mmm.”
His hand finds mine under the covers, stroking the back of it with his thumb.
We’re quiet for a long time after that.
“What were those big feelings about?” he asks eventually.
I hesitate. “I don’t know if I should tell you that.”
“You can tell me anything. Nobody would believe me anyway.”
I huff something close to a laugh. “Life.”
“What about it?” When I don’t answer quickly enough, he asks, “Does it have something to do with the scars that are all over you?”
Fuck, I’d hoped he had forgotten about them. “I know they’re not pretty.”
“Tout chez toi est joli. Absolument tout,” he murmurs, then demands softly, “Tell me.”
I shift closer and rest my forehead against his chest. “I’m not well. I haven’t been for a long time. And Dane just doesn’t understand.”
His hand slides up, threading into my hair. “I’m not well either,” he says quietly. “I understand. You can tell me.”
I sink further into his chest, relieved beyond words by something in his response. Something I’m too tired to pinpoint right now. “Life’s too heavy.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t be who I want to be. Can’t do what I want to do. And because everything hurts all the damn time.”
He rakes his nails lightly down my scalp, creating a shiver all the way to my toes. “I get that, it’s shitty, but you’re here, you’re racing. We’re living the dream.”
“And what happens when the dream ends?” I whisper.
Luc doesn’t answer right away, but he continues his soft touches, then shifts slightly, snuggling closer. His nose brushes my forehead as he whispers, “Anything can be a dream if it’s small enough.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
He chuckles, his breath fanning across the bridge of my nose, and I swear I feel his smile against my skin.
“It means…” he murmurs, “… you don’t have to chase the whole sky, Petit. You can just lie here with someone warm, under a cheap blanket, in a borrowed bed, and decide this is enough. That this little dream is real, safe, and entirely yours.”
“That’s…”
Ridiculous.
Beautiful.
Before I can settle on one, he reaches over and turns off the light.
He comes right back, curling around me and gently situating me until my back is against his chest. His arms band tightly around me like he means to keep everything bad out, like his body could hold back the world, and I can’t help but let out a contented sigh.
“See?” he murmurs, smug as ever. “Therapeutic and hot. You’re welcome.”
I huff a laugh. It’s barely a sound, but it’s real.
Then the world goes quiet, and it’s exactly as he said. It’s enough for now.
My hip still throbs, and my thoughts still vaguely linger around Dane, Finn, and the wreck I’ve made of everything, but here, snuggled in Luc’s arms, they don’t linger.
“Are you asleep?” I whisper after a long while.
“No.” His voice is low and a little rough. “Just listening to you breathe like a total creep.”
I laugh again. More miracles.
“Say something in French for me, Luc,” I whisper, and there’s a beat of hesitation before I add, “Please.”
His body shivers, but stops abruptly, so close I can feel it in my spine. He clears his throat and takes a long, deep breath. And then, softer than I’ve ever heard him speak, he says, “Je pourrais passer l’éternité à te tenir comme ca.”
His shiver transfers to me, but I let it play out, feeling every moment of it.
I angle my head toward him, seeking him in the dark. “What does that mean?”
Luc exhales a laugh into my hair. “It means… ‘No guillotine could take away the head I’m giving you as soon as you let me.’ ”
I elbow him. “Luc!”
He snickers, making me smile, and my chest hurts in that warm, confusing way.
Luc kisses the back of my head. “Sleep now.” A second later, he adds, in barely a whisper, “Dors maintenant, mon Petit.”