When the Heart Falls(147)

She nods. "You were right about the slave ship. That's life. You can try to find happiness, a raft amongst an ocean, your soul mate, but something always holds you back, something always traps you. We start off pure, but eventually something gets its claws in us, and it never, ever let's go."

I whistle. "I miss the optimist."

"She's gone," Winter says.

"Just tired." I lay down and pull the blankets over us. "Let's go to bed."

She puts a cold hand on my chest. "No. I want you."

"Winter, are you sure?"

"Yes. I refuse to let bullies make me feel bad for wanting to be with you, for enjoying this."

"What do you—"

"Shhh." She straddles me, her hands gripping my chest.

"Winter, we don't need to—"

She silences me with her body. We become one, dancing to our own rhythm as we let the judgment of stupid people fall away.

"You're amazing,” I tell her, as our bodies recover.

She leans into my arms. "I never want to feel bad for kissing you. I never want to fear touching you."

"You never have to. Whatever anyone says, whatever comes and whatever came before, it's okay."

"I thought you didn't care about that," she says. "I thought you didn't believe."

I kiss her again, arms tightening around her. "For you, I believe."





CADE SAVAGE





CHAPTER 24





WE TRAVEL OVER the first, and formerly longest, cable-stayed road bridge, Le Ponte de Normandie, that spans the river Seine, and I marvel at what the human mind has conceived of that once must have felt impossible. The bridge serves to remind me that what people call impossible is just something that no one's done yet. Everything was impossible at one point, until it wasn't.

Which means nothing is really impossible at all.

This thought cheers me as we make our way to the commune of Etretat in order to take pictures of les falaises d'Etretat—the cliffs of Etretat. Powerful and immense, surrounded by emerald green and sapphire blue waters, rising into the sky like white mountains peaked in green, the cliffs awe us both. We stop and take pictures, then make a small picnic with leftovers from lunch and eat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

The sun is setting, the rays casting oranges and yellows into the water and chilling the air. Winter shivers, and I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She's always so cold, but with a heart so warm and loving. While I'm glad she reclaimed her own power on Bastille Day with her Ice Queen costume, I can never see her as that, as an Ice Queen. She's the most caring person I've ever known, and I want to punch anyone who has ever treated her less than she deserves.

As we eat, a family nearby enjoys their own picnic. The little boy and girl play together, kicking a ball back and forth.

"You like kids?" I ask.

Winter shrugs. "They're cute."

"You want any?"

"In a few years," she says, watching as the boy kicks the ball too far, sending the girl running for it.

"How many?"

"Years or kids?”

I chuckle. “Kids.”

The sun shines on her hair, bringing out the blue undertones of the black. “Well, my kindergarten self decided I'd have two. A boy and a girl."

An ant scuttles over my hand and I shake it off. "What about your present self?"

She crosses her arms over her knees, eyes focused on something far away. "I don't know. I worry about having a baby. How could I protect her when the world's so cruel?"

"She'll have the Savage blood in her. She'll protect herself."

Winter raises an eyebrow. "So we're talking about our baby?"

I look away, shocked at the turn of this conversation, at my own thoughts. "Just thinking about the future. I always imagined having a big family."

She shakes her head. "Not me. Not anymore."

"Because you grew up in one?"

Winter turns away, staring at the horizon. "Because I'm afraid. One child is the chance to make a million mistakes. I'm not sure I could handle more mistakes."

"Because you'd care about your baby."

"More than myself."

I nod. "Me too. But babies are still a far way off."

"They are, and one day, I won't be afraid anymore," she says. "I may not even notice it, but one day, I'll be ready."

I smile. "She's back."

"Who?"

"The optimist."

Winter chuckles. "She's always in here, fighting for survival."



This is our last stop before heading back to Mont Saint-Michel, and I'm reluctant to leave. A shadow of despair settles over me, but I shrug it off. We still have several days left of our vacation, then several weeks left of our summer in Paris. I refuse to let the future steal these present joys from me.

Winter falls asleep in the car on the long drive back to our hotel at Mont Saint-Michel, and I nudge her awake when I return the rental. We're both exhausted when the bus drops us down the road from our hotel. All the walking and driving and sightseeing has worn us out, but I have one more thing left on our agenda that I don't intend to postpone for morning. So as Winter showers, I slip in with her, startling her enough that she drops the soap.