“Hello, my friends. Enough serious talk. It’s time for spinning.”
Zara’s laugh tinkled. “I don’t know. If I start spinning, I might not stop.”
“What’s the problem?” Henrik pulled her hand from mine. “Come on. I promise to catch you. Or maybe Mr. Kelly will do that job.”
She let him pull her off her stool, but reached for me, tugging on my sleeve. “Come on, you. We’re long overdue for that dance. No time like the present to make it happen.”
We were long overdue for a lot of things.
“Where are we?” Zara murmured against my chest, her eyes cracking the slightest bit.
“Home.” I shifted her in my arms and punched in the code on the front door. “You can go back to sleep.”
She nuzzled against me, broke through my sternum, and gnawed at my heart. Or maybe it only felt like I’d been flayed open.
“Okay, Mac. I’m pretty tired.”
I closed and locked the door behind me. “I know, Zara. I’m tired too.” I kicked off my boots and headed up the stairs, her limp body heavy and perfect in my arms.
She’d bounced between Henrik and the other guides, singing to country music and throwing darts like confetti. She’d danced and laughed and drank more while I’d mostly sat and watched. Seeing her happy and free had unraveled some of the knots I’d carried for a long time. And even though I hadn’t been the one to make her feel that way, for now, it didn’t matter.
We’d danced too—in the loosest definition of the word. By the time she’d grabbed my hands and pulled me toward the jukebox, she was stumbling more than keeping any sort of rhythm.
Still, she’d made me smile. I’d found glimpses of my friend. The way she’d reached for me, and reached for me, and reached for me whenever we parted. Poking me. Slapping her hands right over my heart. Showing me to all her new friends, telling them I was herfirstbest friend. The air under her feet, the galaxies in her eyes. Light, light,light.
Knowing those parts of her were still there soothed me. Sweetened the bitterness I’d had too long on my tongue.
And at the end of the night, when Zara proclaimed she could dance no more, it had been nothing less than natural for me to scoop her up and carry her to my car.
This was why I’d stayed stone-cold sober, so I could be the one to watch over her and make sure she got home safe. Only in the darkness of my guest bedroom, with Zara tucked under the covers, sighing in her sleep, could I admit that to myself.
I took one last look at her, shadows dancing over her peaceful face, hair like an oil spill across her pillow, then I backed away, quietly closing the door.
In my dark room, under my warm blankets, I blinked at the ceiling. No matter how tired I was, sleep wouldn’t come. The deep, visceral ache in my chest was too present. Impossible to breathe through or ignore. It kept me up. Kept me staring at the ceiling.
I rubbed the words carved in ink on my collarbone—a memory attached to my skin—and wondered if this would ever end.
Would it hurt forever?
Tears welled and spilled over, no matter how many times I blinked them back. Streaming along my temples onto my pillow. Silent trails of grief as I lay frozen, unable to move on.
Why the fuck couldn’t I move on?
My fingers curled into my sheets, gripping them so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were shredded by morning. I wasangryat myself, the situation and, if I were honest,her.
For existing. For being here, in my home, where I’d brought her. For falling for a man who never deserved her. How easily she moved through the world. Through life. Even when she failed and things weren’t going her way, she still laughed, danced, and touched.
This wasmyproblem, and I hated myself for my anger. I had no right to it. I was the one who couldn’t shake these feelings. I’d tried. Had even thought they were fading. Then something would remind me of her—a wedding invitation in the mail. Christmas card from her parents. A song, a meal, the earth, the wind, my home—and she’d be there. I’d remember everything and be right back where I’d started.
She’s just a girl, I told myself.
My girl, I argued.
But she wasn’t. Not my girl. Never my girl.
Frustration sat heavy in my chest, making my breath short. I was panting, close to clawing off my skin. Was the ceiling falling? Had it moved?
I turned my head, finding the moon out my window. Big and bright, so full, it was nearly bursting. Close enough to touch, but always out of reach.