Page 24

William

The snowstorm raged outside, turning the view beyond the wall of windows white. From this high up, the howl of the wind was near deafening.

I increased the volume of the music playing throughout the apartment, but not enough to lose the ambient feel. The fingers of my right hand curved around a phantom bow when the sonata evoked a need to partake. The low whine of the violin closely mimicked a songbird’s cry.

A text notification appeared at the top of my screen. With a sudden rush of adrenaline, I swiped out of the playlist to check Ryan’s message.

Ryan: Almost there.

With the weather making it near impossible to drive in, I’d canceled our plans for tonight. Ryan had accepted the cancellation too easily. That should’ve been my first clue he was up to something. It usually took a lot of reasoning to get him to agree to anything.

An hour later I’d received another message from him stating I could remain safe in my glass tower, because he’d be catching a ride into the city with Peggy. She had to pass by here to get home. Sarcasm and determination aside, he’d been checking in periodically to let me know they were safe and that he’d be here soon. Lucky for me, I’d already gotten everything I needed for the night before the weather turned.

Maybe I should’ve let him stay over last night, but I didn’t trust myself not to be swayed by him. I’d been in a vulnerable state, and Ryan could be very persuasive when he wanted something. We needed a night apart. We needed time to think.

He also had a session with Dr. Shwartz this morning that I didn’t want him to miss. I’d hoped he’d run our plans for tonight by her, and that she could help him gain clarity on whether or not now was the right time.

Today also marked the start of “truth” week. Had he shared with her everything he’d previously withheld? Or did he plan to spread it out over the course of several days? Maybe he’d changed his mind altogether.

I hadn’t changed my mind, though. I couldn’t. Not if we planned on taking things to the next level.

Grabbing the box of matchsticks off the coffee table, I hustled around the room, lighting every pillar candle positioned on iron holders throughout.

I lit the candlesticks in the kitchen next, then fussed with the place settings on the island for the fifth time. I might’ve gone overboard, but I wanted this night to be special for him. The plan was to make love by the end of it—if the truth didn’t end up costing me in the worst way possible. Even if it did, I needed him to know he was worth the effort.

I debated plating the food I’d ordered, but decided to leave it warming in the oven in case he wasn’t ready to eat yet.

My nerves were frazzled, and it being Christmas Eve didn’t help. Ryan had no idea what this day meant to me. He’d understand soon, though, and the idea of him looking at me differently afterward made my body feel weak. I gripped the edge of the island to steady myself.

Bell chimes rang from my phone. Three in quick succession, letting me know my elevator was on the move. Ryan’s here.

Taking another look around, I hurried to the Christmas tree, turning the light setting to fade. I loosened the tuck on the turtleneck I wore, then adjusted my belt buckle before striding down the hall to meet Ryan at the door. Letting out a quick breath, I opened it with a smile.

Ryan wore a look I hadn’t seen since the early days of him living here. Anger. He quickly covered it with a small contrived smile of his own. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it. To be fair, I’d been feeling it since the day we met. Nothing had been right since then.

Ryan kissed me, his cold hands cradling my face. Our kisses tended to feel desperate or comforting—or a combination of both. This one felt like an escape or a distraction. Like he kissed me to get his mind off something. Maybe even to prove something. Ryan in the mood-to-prove was a dangerous thing. It didn’t feel related to his desire to have sex, though. On some fundamental level, I knew this was separate from that.

Sure enough, when he pulled back, his smile seemed genuine. Whatever test that was, I’d obviously passed it. Or maybe he’d been testing himself, not me.

Slipping past me, he hung his coat in the closet while I watched him, my hand still gripping the door. I shook myself out of my confusion and closed it.

Ryan slid his arms around my waist. I relaxed, returning his embrace. Maybe what happened at the front door was nothing. Maybe I’d misinterpreted his anxiety. It made sense for us to be nervous. I let the incident go.

“You smell amazing,” I whispered, massaging his back with my fingers. He wore a ribbed, long sleeved top. He seemed to prefer the fitted look. I didn’t mind one bit. “You also look good in green.” His outfit complimented my eyes, and my all-black ensemble matched his. “Great minds think alike, they say.”

Ryan gave a muted laugh, but I felt the rumble of it between our chests. He tugged the neck down on my shirt, breathing in the cologne I’d spritzed myself with.

“It’s new. You like it?”

Ryan nodded, kissing below my ear before pulling away. He checked me out, his gaze hungry as he took his time making his way down my body.

When his eyes returned to my face they were hard again, making my heart stutter with fear and confusion once more. He averted his gaze, angling his chin toward his shoulder.

“Hey.” I waited until he’d turned back to me. His eyes were soft again, almost sad. “Are you okay?”

Ryan released a cynical sounding huff, sinking his hands into his straightened hair before strolling down the hall. He froze when he reached the living room, absorbing the scene I’d created. Careful not to crush the rose petals as he followed their trail to the center of the room, he spun in a slow circle, eyes wide.

He looked beautiful bathed in candlelight. The flames defied logic in his presence, flickering higher and seemingly arching toward him. Lured by the tortured parts that never truly abandoned him, not even in moments of happiness.

We weren’t experiencing one of those happy moments now, no matter how hard he tried to project otherwise.

He faced the kitchen now, his sharp intake of breath cutting through the room upon seeing the recreated dinner scene from His Eternal Love. Long stemmed red roses lined the counters, and a pair of five-arm candelabras lit up the island.

Ryan’s gaze crashed into mine, and his hands flew to his neck like he was choking on the words he couldn’t get out. His fingers balled into fists, resting against his throat. Rage and sadness returned, eclipsing the spark of gratitude in his eyes.

My heart skipped a beat, watching him struggle, then felt as if it were failing me altogether when things began to take a turn for the worse.

Ryan charged at me, grabbing me by the shirt before assaulting me with an anguished kiss. I tried prying him off, but it seemed to intensify his frenzy. I gave into it, giving him what he needed—what we both needed—my desperation matching his.

He backed away once suffocation became a real threat, both of us reluctantly uncurling our fingers from each other’s clothes. His eyes were squeezed shut, a dreamy sort of expression spreading across his face.

“Ryan,” I breathed, feeling behind me for the wall that branched off from the hallway. I needed the support.

His eyelids popped open at hearing his name, and I wondered if it was the shameless plea in my tone that caught his attention. His smile turned shaky, then fell altogether. Despair extinguishing the fire in his gaze.

I realized it was my eyes. It was meeting my gaze that made him conflicted, that took away everything good in him. From the way his jaw ticked I assumed he saw something there he hadn’t seen before, or maybe it was something he could no longer ignore.

He knows what you’ve done.

No, he couldn’t possibly know, because I hadn’t told him. It was on the tip of my tongue to say it. To put myself out of my own misery by getting it over with. I wasn’t ready, though. Not quite yet.

“Your eyes are red,” I noted. So were mine. “Were you up all night?”

He nodded once.

“So was I.” The next logical question would’ve been to ask why he hadn’t gotten any sleep. That ran the risk of me hearing something I might not have been ready to, though. Instead, I told myself his behavior came down to a lack of sleep and maybe hunger.

“Have you eaten today?”

Ryan shook his head, biting down on the corner of his lip.

“Neither have I,” I rasped, pain spreading everywhere. I took the few strides needed to enter the kitchen. “I ordered lasagna from this great Italian restaurant close by.” Slipping on the oven mitts, I lowered the oven door and withdrew the pan, setting it on top of the stove.

Gaining a bit of distance from him didn’t help. I could feel his turmoil and confusion. I felt it even more when he stepped into the kitchen with me.

With my back to him, I took a few deep breaths, removing the mittens and focusing on the music playing softly overhead. I looked back at him, expecting to find his gaze on me, expecting it to be full of all the negative emotions he’d fluctuated through since arriving here.

Ryan was staring at the small cake peeking out from behind one of the vases.

“Dessert,” I whispered. “It’s double chocolate fudge, your favorite. It’s the biggest one I could find.” I realized my error after he’d stormed off, much like the mistake I’d made with the chicken tenders and fries.

With a forearm pressed to the window, Ryan watched the whiteout developing outside. It felt like we were looking into a snow globe. Soon we’d be surrounded by white fog, sealing us in from outside distractions.

I entered the living room, turning the playlist off and plunging us into crippling silence.

“How’d your session with Dr. Shwartz go?” I felt faint, and it had nothing to do with hunger.

Ryan shook his head.

“You… You didn’t meet with her?”

He shook his head again.

“Did you meet with your tutor, then? Work out with Chef Shawn?”

Ryan didn’t answer, clearly not in the mood for small talk or a game of twenty-one questions. I asked another one anyway.

“What did you do all day?” And all night…

That particular question seemed to interest him. He straightened, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks before turning to me.

A candle wick popped, breaking up the heart-pounding silence of the room. The flame went out altogether, symbolic in a sense. The scent of acrid smoke drifted through the air while I waited for something I couldn’t have seen coming.

Where was his phone? I hadn’t seen it since he got here, and I hadn’t felt it on him when he’d pressed his body against mine. It must have been in his coat. I thought about getting it for him until I realized I didn’t have to. Ryan gave me the answer to my question without it.

“Prac… ticed,” he said in a voice that was deep but scratchy from disuse. “Prac… ticed,” he repeated. The word came out disjointed, as though he were having problems connecting the syllables, turning the single word into two. He brought a hand to his throat again, rubbing at it.

It felt like someone had wrapped a noose around my neck. I fought for every breath, each one reducing the amount of oxygen I had left.

Ryan stared at me like we were strangers, like I was a hazard to his existence. He knew . He’d always known, and I’d been naive to believe otherwise.

“You ne… ver ask me things that mat… ter,” he said, still massaging his throat. His words flowed smoother when he spoke again, only halting in one spot. “Not my last name, not my age, and noth… ing about my family.” He winced. “Why is that?”

I didn’t know whether to clutch my aching chest, or my throat where my own words felt stuck. “I-I didn’t want to—”

“Truth!” he shouted, grimacing with both hands at his neck now. He closed his eyes, slowly lowering his hands and breathing deeply. He seemed more confident in himself when he opened them again, his voice steady. “I don’t have any family. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really. Everything he asked from that point on would be an accusation he already knew the answer to.

“Today’s my birthday.” He glanced over my shoulder to where the double chocolate fudge cake waited in the kitchen. “But you knew that too, didn’t you?” he sneered.

I should’ve taken him up on his offer last night. I should have made love to him while I had the chance, should’ve told him I loved him while I had the chance, because I wouldn’t ever get the opportunity again.

I’d been stupid, and all the good reasons I had for it were now lost beneath the mess I’d made. No, we wouldn’t be making love tonight. We’d be saying goodbye.

“How old does that make me?” he asked, stalking me as I backed away. “I lost count early on. You’d be surprised how quickly you lose track of time when locked in a dark room for days, weeks, months ,” he seethed before taking a moment to breathe. “Not trusting my math skills didn’t help. I don’t even remember what year I was born.”

“Ry—”

“Don’t!” he shouted, cutting me off. “I’m done with lies. Today we’re telling the truth. How. Old. Am. I?”

“T-twenty-six.”

“Twenty-six?” he whispered, his tone rife with devastation and betrayal. Tears flooded his eyes, and it killed me that we were now close enough for me to catch them before they fell but I couldn’t. I no longer had the right to. I never did. We’d always been on borrowed time.

He ran trembling hands over his cheeks and lips, as if searching for the truth in the smoothness of his youthful skin. “I-I thought I was older. I feel older.” The weariness in his words gutted me. He stepped away, shaking as a waterfall of tears cascaded down his face.

“Say it,” I breathed, my eyes and chest burning me alive. “Say it. Make it real.”

He swiped the moisture away angrily, swallowing and raising his chin. “My name is Asher Gray.”