Ten Below Zero(59)

“Yes. Thank you, for what you did.” It was uncomfortable for me to say what he did. How he’d helped me.

“I’d do it again,” he said. And I knew he meant it. Not because Everett refused to lie, but because of how he said it. The way he looked at me. I couldn’t explain where things had changed for us, where we had decided that holding hands and meaningful looks were now our “thing.” But nothing felt more right than my hand in his, and his eyes on me.

We walked down the hall to our hotel room, stealing glances at each other. His hand shook a little when he put the key card in the door. It was subtle, but I noticed. And I knew, based on our conversation in the canyon, the trembling was caused by his cancer.

His cancer was always in the back of my mind, reminding me of my goal in going on this trip with Everett. It was the reminder that my time with Everett had an expiration date. That though we could live forever in a memory, we were all but mere mortals.

“What are you thinking about, Parker?”

I looked up, breathless, and saw he’d opened the door to the hotel room and was waiting, his hand in mine, for me to join him. “Mortality,” I said, tasting the word and the bitter aftertaste it left on my tongue.

His face softened. His smile left as quickly as it had come. “Come,” he said, tugging my hand into the hotel room. He closed the door and we stood there, facing each other in the short hallway to the main bedroom area, the bathroom to my left.

“You’re sad,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

I stared at the floor, my eyes tracing the patterns in the hotel carpet. “I don’t want to be.”

“At least that’s honest.”

I raised my head. “I don’t want to feel, Everett.”

“And I want you to,” he said, grabbing my shoulders. “Even if it hurts, I want you to feel. And even more, I want you to tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Sad,” I said, my voice flat.

“Why, though?”

“Because thinking about death is sad.”

“And why are you thinking about death?”

“Because I’m staring it in the face, Everett!”

He grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest. “You’re not. Feel that. I’m not dead. I’m alive. And so are you.” He grabbed my other hand and placed it on my chest. “That muscle is keeping you alive, scientifically speaking. But you’re not living, Parker. Your life was paused when you were attacked. You stopped living your life. You have no drive, no purpose, and no reason for breathing. What value is there in your life, Parker? Honestly?”

My lungs were tight, straining against my ribcage.

“I think,” he said before swallowing. “No one has ever valued you before. How can you see the value in life if no one saw the value in you? I’m sad for you, Parker. And I’m sad for all the blind people who couldn’t see you.”

I tried backing up. Space. I needed space. I couldn’t breathe. Everett stopped me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to him.

“I see you,” he said. I shook my head back and forth, disbelieving. “I see you, Parker. You’re broken. Not all broken things can be fixed. And that’s okay, don’t you know that? It was your brokenness that drew me to you, because I saw in you the same things I saw in me. It was our brokenness that connected us. So I can’t wish away those broken pieces in me, because without them I wouldn’t have seen you.”

I couldn’t stop shaking my head. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to draw people to me with my broken pieces. I wanted to be left alone among all those pieces, sitting in the middle of them so if people dared to come close, they’d cut themselves on all the pieces to get to me.

“Be broken, Parker.” He grabbed my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “For f*ck’s sake. Be broken and be okay with it. Be okay that I know.” His words, though rough with their meaning, were delivered gently. He kissed me then, pushing his lips hard against mine.

I tried to resist. Giving in would mean what he said was true. But kissing Everett was paramount.

He pushed me against the wall, looking down on me and breathing heavily. “Parker,” he whispered against my lips before diving back in again. My hands found his hair and pulled hard. His words had hurt me. And the hurt made me feel out of control, violent. So I took, took whatever I could.

Everett lifted me up so my legs were around his waist and our lips were perfectly aligned on each other. He caught my hands as they slid down his chest and held them in his one hand, raising them to the spot just above my head.

My mind wanted to record this moment. To save it for another time. This is what I would remember: his hands on my wrists, keeping them from exploring. The way his lips pulled on mine, as if he wanted to pull away but couldn’t. It reminded me of the pull of gravity. They way gravity held us to the earth to keep us from flying away. I so desperately wanted to be his gravity, to hold him on this earth and keep him from leaving me. Despite my confusion with everything else, I knew I wanted Everett to stay with me. I wanted a different future. And so I did what Everett pushed me to do, to try always. I took control of my life, of this moment, and I kissed him back with everything I felt. Confusion, longing, fear.

Everett set me down only long enough to remove the clothing from the lower halves of our bodies. I was shaking with need, fingers itching to touch him again. When I heard the familiar sound of foil ripping, I quivered. A second later, he’d picked me up again, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist once again. And then he stopped moving and put his hands on my face, pushing the hair away. “Parker.” It was one word, but he timed it with the first thrust and my head fell back, rapping on the wall behind me.