In Harmony(115)

We watched each other for a moment. Now that the chaos of the night had died away we were left with only each other and three years of silence.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said finally. “I don’t know where to begin or how to begin again… I don’t know if it’s what you want.”

“What I want…” I said, looking up and out as the tears were already starting. “I want to tell you the truth about what happened.”

“You don’t have to,” Isaac said.

“But I hurt you too. And I’m so sorry, Isaac, but I can’t regret it. It was the only way I knew to protect you.”

“I know. Marty told me what your dad threatened. He told me not to dredge all that shit up for you all over again. Because it would hurt you too much. And he’s right. The last thing I want to do in this world is hurt you.” His eyes were shining, his voice gruff. “Again.”

“I believe you,” I said slowly. “But…”

“But what?” he asked, his face pale.

“But it’s not what scares me,” I said, and the nightmare of that first winter without him came back to me. “The silence, Isaac. The silence scares me. Three years…”

He put his hand over his heart as if my words had stabbed him. He gripped his shirt, the pain constricting his face. “I know,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, Willow. I swear to fucking God, I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head, my heart aching. “I know it’s how you cope,” I said. “You’ve been hurt too. But if you’re asking me what I want, then I’m telling you. It’s you. Your presence. Your voice. To feel connected to you. To never feel that cut off from you again. Even if things don’t work out between us, I can’t have…nothing. I can’t.”

“You won’t,” he said, his voice thick. “You won’t, ever again. I swear. I’ll never stop being here for you, talking to you, telling you every day how I feel. Because the only fucking thing I feel is how much I love you. And how sorry I am for adding to your pain when you were already carrying so much.” He coughed, his jaw working. “You’re so goddamn brave, Willow. Braver than anyone I know. Braver than me. And what you did tonight…” He shook his head. Then he grew very still. He swallowed hard, and lifted his eyes to mine, bracing himself. “Did I lose you?”

My face crumpled with the strain of holding back the tears. I shook my head until I could speak.

“You can’t lose me, Isaac,” I said in a broken whisper. “You’re my until. The one that makes everything better.”

He held my gaze for a moment, then his head bowed. “Christ…”

I went to him, to hold him in my arms, my tears spilling over now, but he fell to his knees first. Wrapped his arms around my waist, buried his face against my middle, holding tight to me, his shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, over and over. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.”

I cried and reached to touch him. Tentatively at first, my fingers in his hair, remembering the softness. My touch trailed down his back, remembering. His shoulders, remembering. I dropped to my knees, my hands touching his face now, my eyes tracing every part of him, remembering.

His tears were rain in the stormy gray-green of his eyes. A tempest of pain and regret and three years lost. But beneath that, love.

The love was there first.

“I’m sorry, too,” I whispered. “I love you. I will never stop loving you.”

His hands came up to hold my face. His palms spread wide, remembering. His broken voice wrapping around my name.

And he kissed me.

Isaac…

A little sound fell out of me just as he made a noise deep in his chest.

God, it’s him.

My eyes fell shut, remembering the feel of his mouth on mine. A sweet ecstasy. A give and take of himself for me, and me for him. Tasting him—the salt of his tears and a small tinge of blood. The gulf between us finally bridged, letting him come back to me on a flood of sense memories.

Nights in the dim of the theater, speaking centuries’ old lines with modern emotion. The block at the amphitheater and his hands helping me down, touching me for the first time. The scent of the hedge maze in our noses as we kissed. The cemetery where I’d told my story and he took it from me without recoiling or thinking me ruined. And our dance on a hill, Harmony laid out below us in the dark.

We kissed through tears. We kissed though we could hardly breathe, arms wrapped tight, clinging to one another because to let go again was impossible. We kissed until the exhaustion of the night was too much.

Isaac slumped against the side of my couch, taking me with him. He pulled me onto his lap sideways, my head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His arms held me tight and my hands made fists in the back of his shirt.

“I’m so tired,” I said.

“I know you are, baby. Me too.”

“Let’s go to bed.”

I led him to my bedroom. We parted just long enough for me to change out of my dress and draw on a T-shirt over my underwear. When I came out of the bathroom, Isaac had stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. Same as he had on that night three years ago. Only this time, nothing would wake us in the middle of the night to tear us apart.