Page 49 of Unlawful Hearts
“Some days I hate how much I care,” I said. “Because caring means you hurt. And I’m so tired of hurting.”
He pulled me closer, his hand on the back of my neck, his mouth near my temple.
“Then don’t carry it alone.”
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t how it worked. That I didn’t know how to let someone help. But instead, I let my body rest against his. Just for a moment. Just long enough to remember what safety could feel like.
And safety... safety was dangerous. Because it was addictive.
It was Remi I worried about. More than me. More than anything.
She’d been quieter lately. Quicker to brush things off. Slower to talk about Jack.
I noticed the space between them growing in inches. Then feet. Then miles.
One night, lying in Harlan’s bed while rain tapped the windows, I whispered it out loud.
“She’s pulling away from him.”
Harlan didn’t ask who I meant. He just nodded slightly in the dark.
“I think she’s scared,” I said. “Of what it means to need someone that much. Of what happens if he stays... or if he leaves.”
“You think she’ll talk to him?”
“She’ll talk to me,” I said. “Eventually.”
“Why won’t she let him stay?” he asked as he rolled over on his side and pulled me closer.
I sighed, because that was a loaded question with a complicated answer. “Short answer is that she doesn’t want to repeat her parents’ mistakes.”
“That bad?” he asked.
I turned my face so I could look into his eyes. “They’re the reason she is who she is today.”
He didn’t push beyond that. He sighed like that answer was a heavy one, and it was. Then he brushed my hair away from my face and asked, “And you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, Ava. What do you want?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “I think I’m just starting to understand what that could look like.”
He pulled me closer.
“What’s that?”
I closed my eyes. “A little quiet. A little peace. And maybe... someone who stays when it’s easier to go. Who listens and doesn’t judge. Who doesn’t use my past as a weapon against me.”
I felt him press a kiss to my shoulder and then to my temple.
“I can do that,” he whispered.
And just like that, I started to believe he might.
Because some mornings, I’d catch him watching me like I was sunlight he wasn’t supposed to look at for too long.
Because he memorized things, how I took my coffee, how my eyes went greener when I was angry, bluer when I was breaking.
