Trade Me (Cyclone #1)(85)

From up here, we can see the lights of two bridges, the shimmering skyline of San Francisco against the dark night sky. We see no stars—not a single one—and I like it that way.

First, there are truths to be exchanged. I gesture south, into the darkness. “There,” I say. “Dad’s still in the hospital down there, and he’s already impatient to be out.”

“He’s really okay, then?”

“He’s fine.” I smile, despite myself. “One of the DA’s conditions was that Dad write an op-ed telling people not to do drugs. I read the first draft. I think…the DA will regret that one. But too bad. They already signed off on the deal.”

“How did you pull that off so swiftly?”

I sigh. “How do you think? Money. If they agreed to do a deal, we agreed not to contest the seizure of my car. It was basically a six-figure bribe.”

Tina shuts her eyes. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Hey. You may recall that I left my dad’s cocaine in there in the first place. You have no business apologizing to me.”

“Yes, I do. It’s just…” She points far out to sea, past the distant lights of an offshore rig, into nothingness. “There,” she says. “Years ago. In China. I remembered early this morning that when I was six, I said something that got my father in trouble. All my life, I’ve been remembering my mother grabbing me, telling me to be careful. And all my life, I’ve remembered what happened when I wasn’t. That’s why I walked away this morning. That’s why I tried to keep you so far away. Love is never safe.”

I think about my father, still in the hospital. I think about Peter, who I never thought I could lose. I think about Tina checking the electricity bill for her parents.

“Love is never safe,” Tina repeats. “It’s weird. It’s magical. It’s the moment when you break through the dark shell that protects your heart and say, this, this person. I’m going to let this person in, let him come so close that he can hurt me more than I can possibly imagine. I’m going to let him hurt me.” She inhales. “Love is never safe.”

“And yet,” I say, “we do it anyway.”

“We do it anyway.” Her voice is a quiet echo of mine, but her hands close on mine.

“What do you see now?” she asks.

From here, we can see the skyscrapers of the city, the lights of the Bay Bridge. Behind it, there’s a dark silhouette—the old decommissioned bridge still being dismantled. We can see the darkness of ocean, and to the north, the scattered lights of the Marin headlands.

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I’m not sure what comes next. But whatever it is, I want you with me for it.”

We’re kissing again, bathed in the light of the streetlamp overhead and the constellations we have yet to name below us. We’re writing our own script. And the light we’re going to build together will drown out every million-year-old star that insists we cannot be.