by Claire Vale
I know he heard, but I get his need to process without looking me in the eye. It’s a tough one. There’s no safe answer. He is Gabe’s best friend. He’s hurting. Maybe he’s angry. He promised himself—the whole of the rest of his life—to me.
The anger I’ve been harboring for his part in this drains away. Gabe didn’t just do this to me, he did it to both of us.
Chris and I are stuck in the same rusty boat.
“Can we please be really honest here?” I say. “This is going to be hard enough without navigating the truth.”
“You’re right, it’s just…” He turns, slowly, looks at me. “Okay, I think you’re hot, but I guess you already know that. All those times I tried to pull with you, well, I would totally have gone for it if you were game.”
Warmth rises up my cheeks. This isn’t anything like his ridiculous flirting, it’s real feelings, and I have nothing to bat back at him.
“But, also,” he goes on, “my heart wasn’t exactly trashed when you and Gabe hooked up. You’re easy to be with, you take my crap with a laugh, and…” He shrugs, shoves a hand through his hair. “Jeez, I don’t know, Senna, I really like you. But I don’t know. What’s the difference between ‘like’ and ‘love’ anyway?”
Check. Correct answer.
I smile at him. “You’ll know when it finds you.”
“Yeah, not sure how that’s ever going to happen, but I’m cool with it.” He drags his feet over to the table and dumps himself heavily in the chair across from me. “I’ll tell you what, though, between you and Rose, there’s no choice. Nada. She’s one hell of a nightmare.”
I’m curious as to why he never tried to go after any other of the girls. He’s good looking. A total charmer without a shred of shyness. Excellent prospects according to Rose’s version of risk assessment.
But it doesn’t really matter now, most of the girls are spoken for and we’re getting derailed.
I lean forward on my elbows to close some of the gap between us. “Did you even try to talk him out of it?”
“He’s my best friend,” Chris says. “What do you think?”
I blow out a sigh. “I know, you two are like brothers, I was just wondering if on some level maybe you think he’s doing the right thing?”
“I absolutely don’t agree with what he’s doing,” Chris states firmly. “I made that clear to Gabe.”
“Good, then you’re going to like what comes next.”
“What?”
“Offer for me.”
“We’re kind of past that point, aren’t we?”
I look him in the eye. “Offer for me.”
“Jeez, okay.” He throws his hands up. “Senna Rhys, will you pair with me?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t accept.” My gaze softens with a smile. “No, Chris, I won’t pair with you.”
He bites down on his back teeth, his jaw clenching.
“Gabe would never hurt me like this, not unless he thought I’d eventually end up okay,” I explain. “He believes you can make me happy.”
“You don’t?”
I wince at the sting in his voice. “That’s not fair, Chris, I’m in love with Gabe.”
A pause.
“I get it,” he says. “You’re going to need time.”
“No, I’m not. You’re going to offer for Rose and lodge your pairing, and Gabe will change his mind.”
His legs shoot out beneath the table, the toe of a sneaker stabbing my calf.
“Ouch!” Scooting my chair back, I bend over to rub the dull pain.
“Sorry.” He shifts in his seat. “Look, Senna, you’re not going to change Gabe’s mind. It’s killing him to do this, to leave you, to give you to me, to any other guy… think about it, really think about it, how that must feel for him? Gabe plans to get himself Tithed but he’s more worried about you than about his own life. Why the hell do you think I promised him I’d take care of you?” Chris’ voice breaks. “He’s doing this, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him…this is all I can do, make it a little easier for him, and I won’t take that away. I gave him my word, and I won’t break it.”
I straighten in the chair, set my shoulders back. “Let’s leave Gabe out of this. This is between you and me. You offered and I refused. If you don’t want to end up Tithed yourself, you should look somewhere else.”
He cocks his head, squares a concerned look on me. “You’d seriously do this to Gabe? You’re asking him to choose between you and his sisters.”
“I’m asking him to choose himself, and me, between some preconceived idea that his sisters are somehow jinxed just because they’re twins.”
Chris says nothing.
“Oh my God, you actually do agree with him.”
“It’s not all that far-stretched. No, I don’t agree with his decision, but I don’t think it’s based on total delusion. Not that it matters what I think, anyway, what matters is that Gabe believes it. So yeah, that is what you will be asking him.”
“Maybe you’re right, and maybe it’s selfish of—”
“—cruel—” he inserts. “Selfish and cruel. What if he doesn’t choose you, Senna? What if he chooses the twins? Is that how you want him to go, with that choice in his heart?”
The air blows out my lungs. My stomach twists into hot knots of uncertainty and indecision.
“I’m sorry,” Chris says. He even sounds like he really means it. “I didn’t want to bring that up, but you needed to hear it.”
23
ALONE WITH MY thoughts.
Just me and the trailing pinks of sunset and the deep, blue pool. I’m taking a risk being out here this time of day, no excuse and no darkness to hide me. But I need the isolation, I need the peace. My fingers brush the smooth slate surface of the rock I’m sitting on and I need this, too, this tangible memory of me and Gabe.
I’m following Chris’ advice and thinking, seriously thinking…about me.
Earlier, I finally caved and made it real and told Jessie what’s happening—everything. Once she got over the disbelief, then the shock, then the anger, then some worrisome killer-instinct that seemed to focus on ripping Gabe’s guts out and strangling him with it, she asked unhelpfully, “What do you want?”
Gabe, of course.
Gabe, always.
But the question she was really asking is, “Who do you want if you can’t have Gabe?”
I’m 99% sure Gabe will come to his senses, especially when he realizes that his self-sacrifice is destroying my life, too. But if he doesn’t… I’d have to pair with someone, some random guy still left over who isn’t Chris, who isn’t a familiar, friendly face, who has never flirted with me until I’m bent over from laughter, who has no share whatsoever of special moments spent with Gabe.
I doubt Chris has already rushed off to lodge with Rose. There’s still time, a slither of time, to give up on Gabe and choose some lesser version of happiness.
Chris is quite literally my double-edged sword. I have to let him go, or Gabe will use him as a safety net to drop me into. If I let him go, he can’t be my safety net should Gabe let me fall.
So exactly how selfish and cowardly am I? Do I risk my all for love on that 99%, or do I settle for Chris on 1%?
A rustling sound snaps my eyes to the sheltering trees between the pool and the path. A red-breasted bird swoops from a bough, flaps madly up toward the sky. Before I can take an easy breath, there’s another rustle and the blur of someone emerging from the tree line.
Kane.
He takes two steps toward the pool, his gaze sweeping across the space, slamming into me.
And I’m frozen, I’m holding in my last breath, my heartbeat is on pause. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, why my body somehow thinks that shutting down makes me invisible.
He’s dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, hair dampened against his sweaty brow, his breaths controlled, as if he’s trying to bring his heartrate down.
He’s been for a run, that much is obvious.
From the look of it, a workout far more intense than the morning ritual he puts us through—he always jogs the full distance with us and I’ve never seen him break into a sweat.
“What are you doing here?” I ask stupidly, as if our roles were reversed. But I’m not really thinking straight. I may be in shock. This is bad, so very, very bad.
He wipes a hand across his brow. “Stay right there,” he says, his voice crisp and clipped. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
As if I’m about to bolt like a deer fleeing into the woods. As if that would do me any good.
He doesn’t wait for a response. He turns from me toward the pool, stripping the t-shirt off over his head. Lean muscles flex across his tanned, sweat-glistened back. My gaze is in some kind of grip. I know I should probably look away but I don’t seem able to.
He angles toward me as he reaches down to loosen the laces of his running shoes, giving me a slightly obscured view of his sculpted chest and concave stomach. He reminds me of a black panther from documentaries we watched at school, the very essence of his body primed for power and speed, sleek and built of steel, not an ounce of excess flesh on him.
He is beautiful and my pulse is fast taking notice. There’s a weakness melting into the bend behind my knees.
His thumbs hitch the waistband of his sweatpants. I’m too slow to wrestle my gaze from him and see a flash of black, mid-thigh black shorts that fit him like a glove. A moment later there’s a splash and he’s gone from view.
I watch the rippling water until his head pops up, then I lie down, flat on my back, so I’m not tempted to look anymore.
He’s like an old master work of art, I reason with my flustered breath.
Nothing wrong with appreciating the view.
That’s what I tell myself.
I shake Kane from my mind’s picture, discard this unwanted awareness like I’ve done so many times, and concentrate on my other problems. What does Kane intend to do? Report me? I’d say that’s a definite, given our last conversation. He’s done with me and my insubordination.
I can’t even really blame him.
I remember what Gabe said about us sabotaging ourselves. How could I be so foolish? This isn’t even me, the reckless rule-breaker.
What on earth am I doing?
And what on earth am I going to do about Gabe and Chris and me?
The telltale sounds of Kane climbing out the pool pulls me upright, not quite ready to face what comes next but I brace my shoulders.
He wrings the water from his hair, then collects his clothes and comes my way, bare-chested and in those form-fitting shorts—I don’t look, I keep my eyes firmly on his face. How is he not shivering himself half to death? The pool water is so frigid, it’s practically an ice bath.
Finding a spot on the rock beside me, he stretches out his legs and lifts his face to the fading heat of sunlight. “Okay, speak.”
He’s not looking at me, and I’m done looking and marveling at his physique. He may have been a temporary diversion for my plagued thoughts, but he’s not Gabe, he’s not enough of a distraction to fill that hole.
I turn my eyes to the shimmering water. No point pretending I don’t know what he wants to hear from me.
“I’m just going through something and I’m not exactly coping.” My voice is toneless, a shade reflecting my battered emotions. “I needed some time to myself to think.”
I’ve said too much, far more than required.
I don’t know why.
I’m not after his sympathy, I don’t expect any special favors, and I don’t have the will for our usual clash of philosophies.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“Not really.”
He transforms that into the order, “Talk to me about it.”
I sneak a look. He’s as he was, face turned to the sky. “It’s personal stuff, nothing you’d be interested in.”
“Try me.”
“Why?”
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
I roll my eyes and lean back on my hands, resisting the urge to fill his manipulative gaps. It isn’t hard. What is there to say? There’s no excuse in Ironcross to get me out of this and I’m not about to spill my heart to Kane.
The minutes tick by slowly.
The sky is less pink, I notice, gradually slipping off into twilight.
“Because…” rumbles softly over his lips, reaches into some exposed vulnerability that should be hidden deep within me.
For some inexplicable reason, tears swell to my eyes. I blink them dry, irritated with myself. Kane doesn’t give a damn. He’d choke on laughter if I started talking boy troubles. Actually, I’m about to choke on hysterical giggles at the thought of talking boy troubles to him.
I sense his eyes on me and look.
He’s head is hung my way, chin scraping his shoulder, gray eyes studying me with warm intensity instead of the usual cool boredom. “Because you said you’re not coping. It helps to bounce thoughts off another person. Because I’ve heard you sound excited, sarcastic, cold, hot...”
He turns about into a sitting position so that he doesn’t have to crick his neck to look at me. We’re sliding doors with a slither of space between us…and it suddenly feels ten degrees warmer.
I shift casually so our thighs are no longer in danger of brushing.
He draws one knee up to rest an elbow on. “But never empty. You don’t do empty. You have too much spirit for empty. So talk to me. Because…”
“Because Gabe broke up with me,” I say without meaning to.
“Gabriel Winter.” Not a question.
He looks at me.
I fill the gap with the bare essentials. “Gabe doesn’t want to pair. He wants to get himself Tithed to spare his younger sisters. I’m being handed off to Chris and he fully expects me to live happily ever after, as if he and Chris are completely interchangeable.”
“Are they?”
There appears to be one little spark left inside me. It skyrockets. “What do you think!?”
“Cool down, tiger,” Kane drawls. “Many pairs that come out of the Tithe are.”
“I’ve known Gabe all my life,” I inform him. “He’s my best friend. We’re very much in love.” My bristles fall flat. “If only he wasn’t so damn heroic and…” not stupid. I sigh.
“Selfish?” Kane offers.
No, I’m the one who’s selfish, I know that.
Or maybe Gabe is, too?
“There should be a rule against what he’s doing.”
“There shouldn’t,” Kane says. “The Tithe requires ten souls. If any person wants to volunteer, that’s their prerogative.”
There he goes with his Alder philosophy. But I’m too afraid to argue. Previous experience suggests he’ll probably talk me over and I refuse to jump that fence. I will never agree this is okay.
I squint at Kane. He didn’t even take a second to think before he spoke. “Is this a common thing? People volunteering?”
“Common?” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have access to those statistics, but I knew someone in my Tithe year who volunteered. It happens.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Those who volunteer don’t get to tell their tale. I imagine they wouldn’t speak much about it during their Tithe either. It’s a very personal decision,” he says and slides right into, “What are you going to do?”
“Stop him.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I will.”
“If you don’t pair,” Kane says grimly, “you will be Tithed. That is not a rule. It’s fact.”
“Why do you care?” I flash back.
“You keep asking me that.”
“You never answer.”
“This is not a game,” he says. “If Gabriel isn’t an option, you will pair with any damn guy here who will take you.”
The steel and grit in his tone catches me off guard. I stare at him. I want to as
k, again, this time for real rather than a throwaway retort. Why do you care so much? But I don’t. Instead I think of the one damn guy who will definitely take me.
“Chris is cute and he’s a nice guy, but he’s not Gabe. I don’t love him.” Right here, right now, I think I have my answer. “It’s not enough.”
“It will be enough if it has to be,” Kane says. “You’re still young, but trust me, you don’t need love to be happy.”
“You’re not that much older than me. You’re way more cynical, though.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “You don’t believe in love?”
“I believe in love,” he drawls, his gaze settling on me, into me. “I’m just not interested in it. It’s a useless emotion for a society with too much time on their hands. We are primates, animals with the base instinct for survival at our very core. That’s our origin and I don’t think we’ve evolved as far beyond that as modern civilizations like to profess. Love isn’t strength, it’s the weakest link in a relationship and it isn’t necessary.”
“Isn’t necessary for what?”
“For a healthy relationship,” he says succinctly, a heated glint feeding into his eyes.
My breath catches, my blood slowing to a crawl. “Define healthy,” I say, a little breathless. The air is thicker. Hotter. My skin is suddenly sensitive.
“Define healthy?” His jaw flexes, pressing the hollows deeper, his gaze hooding as he leans in. “I’ll do better than that.”
I’ve done so well until now, ignoring the faint lines that tease the corners of his stone-baked eyes, ignoring the afternoon shadow that darkens his sculptured jaw, ignoring the temptation to allow my gaze to travel down the contours of his muscle-toned torso.
But now I’m practically breathing him in, inhaling his scent of pine wood and ash.
He tilts his head, somehow uses that motion to cover another inch. “I’ll show you.”
That weakness returns to the bend in my knees. “W-What are you doing?”
He is so close, his words brush against my cheek. “Let’s call it a science experiment.”
I should scoot backward. I will. In just a moment. My pulse flutters. “I was terrible at science at school.”
His gaze drifts to my mouth, so slowly, as if he’s savoring the journey. “You are definitely not terrible at this.”