Adrien #4
I quickly roll us over before she finishes me on the spot just like that. The second I’m back on top of her, I slide my arm under the small of her back and lift her up, sitting her up onto me, but her smile fades the second her face hovers inches from mine.
“Then where were you,” she says, catching a breath.
The question strikes something vital inside me so suddenly it almost knocks the air from my lungs, because as determined as I was to bring her back, I never truly prepared myself for what comes after.
For her believing me means she’ll eventually know everything else too, and the truth doesn’t end with us being alive. It ends with her hating me. And there isn’t a single sentence in existence capable of changing that.
“We were…” I begin, swallowing around the knot in my throat. “We thought—”
“Did you just leave me?”
“What?” I shake my head. “No.”
I remain kneeling on the ice while she stays perched against me, one arm wrapped securely around her waist as though loosening my grip might somehow let her run away, even though deep down I know that moment is probably coming anyway.
“We were in danger, Nat,” I explain, my voice threatening to splinter apart. “You were in danger. We were scared.”
“Stop lying,” she grits out. “None of this makes any sense.”
“Nat, I swear.” The words tumble out. “Please, just don’t drift away. Let me explain.”
Her brows draw together before she suddenly pushes herself off me, her hand catching my chest in the process as she rises to her feet.
“We were coming for you the next day. We were already on our way, I swear,” I blurt out, trying to rush everything out of me before I lose her. “But he caught us and—”
“Right.” She shakes her head as if she doesn’t believe a single word. “So you just left me behind,” she whips out, adjusting her clothes back into place.
“Nat, we let you go because we thought we were protecting you,” I say, the explanation sounding pathetic even to my own ears. “We didn’t have another choice. Or at least it felt like we didn’t.”
“So you left me in the hospital?” She takes another step back. “You were alive the whole time?”
“We had to do horrible things, Nat. We didn’t want you anywhere near it,” I force out, my voice trembling now, panic swallowing every coherent thought before it has the chance to form.
“What? What things! It doesn’t make sense!” she shouts at me, backing away.
I was supposed to be ready for this. And yet there doesn’t seem to be a single version of the truth that doesn’t sound like an excuse.
“We had to work for—” I drift off, searching for words. “For him. And—”
“But why did you leave me behind?”
“Because…” I stop myself, no words seem correct. “We had no idea that you’re with him this whole time. We thought—” I continue, slowly getting to my feet until I’m standing in front of her. “We fucked up. We made one stupid decision, and after that there was no way out. We had to—”
“You weren’t in the fire,” she concludes.
“No. We weren’t.”
“But the fire happened.”
She says it almost absently, like she’s checking facts rather than asking a question.
“Yes.”
“So the Varners are alive?”
The word catches in my throat. “No.”
“They died in the fire.”
“Not exactly,” I admit, wincing. “They were quite dead before that.”
She stares at me, the look in her eyes making it seem as though she already knows the answer before I say it. So I say it anyway.
“We killed them.”
She draws in an unsteady breath, processing the words.
Then, without saying another thing, she marches straight off the ice. The skates come off first, then she reaches for her shoes.
“Nat,” I call, hurrying after her. “Let’s talk about it, please. I was told—we thought—”
Fuck. The words can’t even make it past my tongue because of how fucking guilty I feel. She zips up her boots, shaking her head the entire time.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” she murmurs. “It’s happening again. Another fucking nightmare.”
“No no no.” I drop to one knee in front of her before she can walk away, making sure I’m right in her line of sight. “No, it’s not. This is real. We’re here. I’m here.”
My hand finds her hair instinctively, fingers disappearing into the silver strands as though simply touching her might keep her anchored to me.
Carefully, I rise to my feet and help her up with me, never letting go, never taking my eyes off hers.
She glares at me, getting closer, then she—
What?
She kisses me. Rising onto the tips of her toes, she presses her mouth against mine with undeniable confidence, the kind that makes time itself seem to drag into slow motion.
Her hands slip beneath my clothes, gliding across the bare skin of my back and tearing an involuntary grunt from my chest, utterly bewitching me.
Then her hand slides lower, right into my back pocket.
The lure she got me under has taken over me so stupidly hard that when I finally realize she took my car keys, she’s already marching out of the ice arena.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
The word barely leaves my mouth before she’s pulling away and striding out of the arena at a pace that’s unfairly fast.
By the time I burst through the doors and reach the parking lot, she’s already behind the wheel, starting the engine.
I throw myself in front of the car, planting both palms against the hood and staring straight through the windshield at her.
She looks furious. Both hands are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that the skin across her knuckles has gone completely white.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I shout, slapping the hood hard enough for the sound to echo across the empty lot.
Her jaw flexes, then the driver’s window rolls down.
“Get out of the way,” she grits out.
“No.”
“Move!”
“No.”
“Get the fuck out of my way!”
“No,” I shoot back. “You get the hell out of my car.”
She revs the engine, a deep growl vibrates through the chassis, sending tiny stones skittering across the asphalt.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” she yells, sounding every bit like a beautiful psychopath.
The smile tugging at my mouth appears before I can stop it. Partly because the irony is bordering on offensive and partly because, for reasons I should probably discuss with a professional, she’s unbelievably hot when she’s yelling at me.
“I don’t think so,” I reply through a grin.
She revs the engine once more, louder and thoroughly more aggressive. The whole front end of the car jerks forward just enough to make my pulse spike.
“Fuck off or I’ll kill you!” she shouts, the dashboard lights washing over her face and making her look like some furious creature dragged straight out of a daydream.
“You said you don’t believe me,” I say.
“Huh?” Her expression twists into something halfway between confusion and annoyance, like an angry cat.
“If you really think I’m just another nightmare,” I say, leaning forward, “then go ahead.”
I’m only met by silence but her grip tightens even more.
“You don’t believe me, right?” I press.
“No, I don’t,” she grits out, lying straight to my face.
Got you. She’s right where I need her. Right on the edge.
“Then why don’t you run me over?” I shout.
Her brows knit together into that painfully adorable look of confusion.
Sliding both hands into my pockets, I remain exactly where I am, waiting for something I already know isn’t coming.
“You know this is real,” I tell her. “You just don’t want to deal with the consequences.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
Her chin trembles, whether from anger or something far more dangerous I can’t tell, but there’s no backing down now. Not when she’s this close.
“You know this is real,” I repeat, raising my voice just enough for it to cut through the rumbling engine. “You just don’t know what to do with it yet.”
“No!”
The word comes out in that high, indignant squeak she’s had ever since she was young and whenever she was lying through her teeth. And despite everything, the corner of my mouth lifts at the sight.
I brace both palms on the hood and lean over it.
“You’re still such a hardheaded brat!” I shout. “Stop hiding inside that cute little head of yours and let me explain! I would never leave you voluntarily, you know that!”
She lets out a string of incoherent noises, sounding exactly like an offended teenager who’s just been grounded before slamming both hands against the steering wheel a couple of times.
Then all the fight drains out of her and her forehead drops into her palms.
Slowly, I push myself away from the hood and make my way around to the driver’s side, opening the door while she remains frozen exactly where she is, staring into her lap.
“Let me drive,” I say gently.
I can’t really see her face from this angle, but judging by the way her head moves, I’d swear she just rolled her eyes. With visible reluctance, she climbs over the center console and settles into the passenger seat.
I slide behind the wheel, pull the door shut and restart the engine, letting the silence settle between us as we merge onto the empty road.
“How could you do it?” she murmurs after a while, still looking out of the window.
“What?”
“Let me believe you were dead.”
The question shifts something uncomfortably inside me.
“I couldn’t.”
“But you did.”
My jaw tightens, panic boiling.
“We were stupid and scared,” I say weakly. “We got ourselves dragged into a world darker than anything the Varners ever put us through, and after a while we convinced ourselves that keeping you out of it was the best decision we could make.”
“You just left me thinking you were dead. You disappeared,” she repeats it under her breath as if she’s trying to find logic in it.