Page 73 of Stalked By Shadows

“Survivor’s guilt?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Not sure it’s something anyone gets over.” He glanced down and sighed deeply. “You know when I got back, from wherever, I had family members of others who were still missing show up to ask me questions. Like I could somehow point them in the direction of the person they lost. Some had found their loved ones dead and I felt like they were mad at me for surviving, for being found. And everyone expected me to have answers. Only I had more questions than answers. I’d lost time, and I quickly found out, everything else. Lots of people still think I’m crazy. Some have said that I’m not really me, but some replacement person, like a changeling or something.” He bit his lip, then pressed his face into my chest for a moment, like he could somehow bury his memories in my arms. “I feel like me,” he said when he looked up. “How do I know if I really am me?”

I blinked at him. “You are you,” I said. “Maybe not exactly the same you that you were before you went missing, but I’m not the same guy I was before that desert attack either. Life changes us. Sometimes it’s for the good, sometimes it’s for the bad, most of the time we’re different. Not good or bad. Just are. And that’s okay because we’re still here.”

He sat up and frowned, his expressions so much less guarded than they’d been a few days ago when I’d first met him. “When you told me you cried as a soldier, I thought maybe it would be okay. That if I was afraid, it was okay.”

“It is okay to be afraid sometimes. You shouldn’t have to live your entire life in fear.”

“That’s why I went outside. I thought that maybe I was being afraid of nothing and I’d let my entire life change because I was living in fear. So I went outside, sat in the garden, and nothing happened.”

“I have to say I’m happy that nothing happened.” My gut ached at the idea of him going missing again, taken by some boo-wiggly or something. “Maybe all the changes in the garden helped.”

“Except I heard the noise before I went out.”

“So maybe it’s not really dangerous?”

“That was my thought as well. But it makes me sad.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’ve lived the past two years like I was imprisoned. A prison of fear, pretending to be normal, but waiting for the next monster to grab me.”

“Okay, but you can’t change the past. You can only change how you react in the future. What will you do if something makes noise in your garden again?”

He shrugged. “If I keep facing it, will it go away? I worry it will intensify.”

“How about we keep going day by day and see what wonderful things we can make of them, instead of worrying about a lot of ‘what ifs,’ yeah?” I waved at the mess of fabric strips he still had laid out. This also was organized chaos, much like everything seemed in his life. “What are you making now?”

“A quilt top. I’ll have to send it to the longarmer. I don’t have a machine that can do that, though I’ve taken classes on it. I want you to have one big enough you can wrap yourself in.” He sighed. “I can’t justify spending over five grand on a sewing machine.”

“Maybe if you do your photo things again you can save up for one,” I said. “Maybe even sell some of your cosplay designs?”

He looked at me, and it was a thoughtful stare. “I never thought to sell the designs. Idohave a lot of original stuff.”

“Well, there you go,” I said and waved my hands at him like I’d pulled some magic trick out of a hat.

“Hmm,” was all he gave me and returned to his sewing. Watching the strips fly through his machine was very relaxing. Even the whirring sound and his little snips with the scissors and rotary blade, soothed the anxiety I hadn’t realized being separated from him had caused. Though I’d spent the previous night worried about him being by himself, and then this morning his silence had worried me. I had to admit that having a full stomach, being curled up in the cushy chair-cushion, wrapped around my pillow, watching Micah, I was so relaxed, happy he was there, and feeling safe, that I began to doze.

I must have actually fallen asleep because when I woke up it was to have Micah curled around me and Jet on my pillow. At least this time I felt better rested. I stretched a little, which woke Micah.

“Sorry,” I said.

He didn’t try to get up, only slid his arm around my waist and kissed my jaw. “A nap was good,” he said. “Sunday naps are always good.”

“Yeah?” I kissed the tip of his nose. “Did you get lots of stuff done?” His little sewing setup was put away and I couldn’t see any other projects sitting out.

“Enough to clear my head.”

“That’s fantastic,” I said staring down into his pale blue eyes. The mask was gone, his expression sleepy, but rested. “You’re so beautiful.”

His cheeks pinked again.

I put my hand to his face and ran my fingers over his soft skin. It was odd how I thought we’d been mismatched, him far out of my league. Only there were a lot of little things that fit. Was that why Lukas had wanted us together? He’d seen the ways we would mesh?

“Why the frowny face?” Micah asked.