Page 194 of Because I Killed Him
“Where do you want to take me?”
He lifts his chin and smiles proudly. “Flying.”
I smile back, though it’s not the same as his; mine feels like a cut, painfully splitting open. I’ve imagined this moment so many times, him asking me to fly with him and watching the world together from the view he loves most. But before the sky, before he shows me who he is, I have to show him who I am.
We reach the elevators and step inside. A few students start forward, ready to join us, until Edmund plants himself in front of the doors, feet set apart to block the entrance. The students pause, then step back to wait for the next one.
When the doors seal shut, I turn toward the wall and avoid Edmund’s gaze. As much as I hope he won’t touch me, I’m already imagining his hands sliding up my waist, his breath warming my mouth between each kiss. My teeth clench, and my body tightens as I force myself to stare straight ahead, even as his fingers brush softly against mine.
“I meant to return this tonight,” he says. “But I think you’ve missed it long enough.”
He guides me toward him with one hand while the other slips into his suit jacket pocket. I stagger sideways on my brace, not daring to hope, until I see a flash of emeralds between his fingers. The daffodil brooch appears, as real as the agony I felt when I lost it, and he gently places it in my palm.
“Edmund, you—” My voice breaks on a tremor. “You really went back in there?”
He nods, his smile widening. “Jack helped. We used a submersible scanner to map the lakebed and isolate the signal. Then I went in with a reinforced suit.”
I stare at him, speechless, wide-eyed, and trembling in shock. Somehow, impossibly, the brooch remains intact, as if it never touched the water or sank to the bottom of the lake. I curl my fingers around it, its shape too perfect and precious to be real. My other hand fumbles for the wall, searching for support as my body begins to shake so violently that my brace wobbles beneath me.
Edmund reaches out to steady me, but I’m already reaching for him. I throw my arms around him with everything I have, all at once. He pressesa button on the panel behind me, and the elevator stops, suspended in stillness between floors. Then he wraps his arms around me, lifting me until the only thing I can feel is the brace tugging downward, the last tether holding me to the ground.
“My brace,” I whisper. “It weighs—”
“You aren’t heavy, Loredana,” Edmund says, brushing my cheek with his thumb. “You’re the only thing that’s not.”
Guilt floods through me, but I don’t pull back. Instead, I lean in closer, pressing my face into his neck as I give in to him. I want this, too. Selfishly. One more moment, one last time. Because after tonight, it’s over.
He’ll never say my name again.
A bell rings, signaling that our Civilized World History exam begins in five minutes, but the sound feels distant, swallowed by the space around us. Neither of us lets go. Edmund shifts me against the elevator wall, his hold gentle. I try to match his restraint, but my mind feels like it’s fracturing, breaking apart over how little time we have left. I clutch him as if he were my own heart, as if my guts will spill out if I let go. My fingers drag up his back, threading into his hair, and I pull him closer, my lips moving against his in a rush I can’t contain. The kiss breaks, then returns, wilder and fevered, as if I can steal a lifetime in one final moment. Again and again, I press into him, all my need and sorrow collapsing into the desperate, crushing rhythm of my mouth against his.
He lifts me higher, yielding enough to keep me close, but when the sobs break free, and my fists twist his shirt so tightly that a button snaps off, he softens. His arms ease their hold, cradling rather than gripping, and he lays his palm against my chest so gently it feels like he’s trying to steady my heart. The tenderness of it makes my hands fall away, barely moving as he leans in and continues kissing me. Each kiss is softer than the last, the trail so light that my entire body prickles and shivers. I let my head rest against the wall, eyes closing as a calming warmth washes over me. The elevator is so quiet, the peace so complete, that I can only hear his breath brushing my skin, the soft press of his lips on my face, my neck, my shoulder. Every kiss slows, gentler still, yet each one carries the unbearable, all-consuming weight of what I feel for him.
Edmund’s hand drifts to my leg, and when his fingers reach the bracebeneath my dress, he stills. The kisses stop. He lowers into a crouch, lifts the hem of my dress carefully, and studies the brace more closely. I see the anger at Irene settle into his face, fast and feral as a snarl in the dark, then guilt follows immediately behind. He shifts, clears his throat, and looks up at me.
“I shouldn’t have left you alone on the yacht.”
“Edmund.” I brush my hand through his hair. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. When I told you to trust me to take care of you, I meant it. And I won’t let it happen again. I’ll stay with you today. Tomorrow. Every day, if you’ll have me.”
I blink, my body lagging behind the moment. “Edmund… what are you saying?”
He rises and takes my face in his hands. “What I’m saying, Loredana, is that I didn’t tell you how I felt that day we went riding without understanding what it would become. From the first time I kissed you, I meant to keep you. And every day since, I’ve only grown more certain.”
He tips my chin up toward him, and I see there’s nothing left guarded in his expression. It’s stripped bare, offering itself without defense. “Ever since I met you,” he says, “I’ve wanted to be better. Not just decent—but strong enough to be gentle. And that’s not something I was ever taught.”
I close my hand over his, my grip tighter than I intend. Happiness courses through me, a flash flood of emotion that overwhelms my whole body. Yet beneath it, something distant begins to stir, like a sound carried from far away. I try to hold on to Edmund, to the warmth of his hands and the sincerity in his eyes, but the image keeps advancing, growing clearer and clearer until it finally hits.
Charles fills my mind, his face contorted with rage, his mouth open in a silent cry, my blood streaking across his skin. I try to force the image away, but it only enlarges, crowding everything else out until Edmund’s face blurs, eclipsed by Charles’s, red and raging and impossibly alive again. My eyes burn. I gasp, my breath stuttering as I look down, anywhere but at Edmund.
He catches my face before I can turn away. “Even if I’m Blue and you’re Green, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “It never did. I chose you then because I couldn’t resist you, but it’s more than that now. I’m choosing you because I love you.”
The words seem to hit me in slow motion, like a crash I saw from miles away but couldn’t stop. Worse still is the way Edmund watches me, waiting, as if every part of him is bound to my reply.
I open my mouth, desperate to say it back and meet him where I want to be, but my voice locks in my throat, trapping the words alongside the truth about Charles. Touching Edmund was wrong enough. Kissing him was worse.
But this… I can’t tell him I love him while knowing I killed his family.
