Forged(35)

“My ma used to tell me that the dead never really leave us,” she says. “She claimed they just changed form, went back to the earth, the sea, the sky. Sometimes I’d catch her whispering to the stars like my father was up there listening.” Bree grips the rail and lets the weight of her body hang back, arms outstretched. The blanket nearly falls off her shoulders.

“I thought she was full of it. The dead are dead, right? All that fancy poetry is just a way for people to cover up the ache. But one night after a friend died, I tried talking to the stars, and I swear it helped. It didn’t change the fact that he was gone, or how unfair it was, but I felt less alone. More grounded. Like I might actually be okay.”

I’m trying to keep it together, but her words are too much. The stars seem exceptionally bright now, and when I look up at them I hear Blaine calling for me, over and over.

“Hey,” Bree says again, her eyes searching mine. “It’s okay.”

And that’s what breaks me, because it’s not okay. It will never be okay: him, gone.

I slide to the deck and Bree’s arms go around me, the blanket engulfing me at the same time. She has one hand in my hair, the other on my back. With my head against her chest I can hear her heartbeat, feel her draw an uneven breath. She pulls me nearer, tighter.

“It really will be okay,” she whispers. “I promise.”

Her breath is warm despite the cool March night and as she whispers this impossible promise into my hair, again and again, I realize how close we are. The small of her back is beneath my palm, the swell of her chest under my cheek. She smells like salt from the sea. Her neck is just inches from my mouth. I want to kiss her there, lean in and lose myself against her skin. She looks down at me and pauses, our lips just inches apart.

She won’t tell me it’s a mistake again. I know it by the longing in her eyes and the way her body quivers when my hand slides to her hip. Knowing it’s my touch that causes her to react like this makes me want her more than ever. I start thinking about how else her body might move beneath my hands, how we might move together if—

I fly to my feet, let the cold wind wake me.

What is wrong with me? Blaine is dead—he’s dead!—and I’m thinking with all the wrong parts of my body.

“Gray?”

“I can’t.” Even as I say the words all I can focus on is the way she felt beneath my hands. “I just . . .” I look at her, willing her to understand. “He’s dead, Bree.”

“Yes, and it’s horrible. It’s going to be horrible for a long, long time. Possibly forever. But that doesn’t mean you have to suffer for every minute from here on.”

“It’s too soon.”

“I’m not saying you should forget him, Gray, or that it will ever stop hurting. I’m saying you shouldn’t force yourself to hurt any more than necessary, that’s all.”

“You don’t know what this feels like, Bree. How it’s eating me up. How feeling anything but the hurt seems like a disservice to him.”

“No, I understand all too well. I’ve lost people I love, too.”

Sure, a father she barely knew to his own Heist. A mother she’s had years to come to terms with—just like my own. But nothing like this. Nothing recent and fresh and practically a part of her. She doesn’t let people get close to her, so who could she possibly have lost that would cause her to feel what I feel right now?

“Punishing yourself—forcing yourself to hurt—isn’t going to make things better.” She reaches for me and I step backward. “Gray, I mean it.”

“Why are you pressing this? You told me you couldn’t in Pine Ridge, that it was a mistake. And now that’s all changed?” I can hear my voice rising, but it feels good, like I’m spitting out poison. “Now you want to throw the last two months of ignoring me out the window? How convenient. What perfect timing! Because guess who can’t now, Bree? Me. I can’t. You’ll have to find someone else if you’re that desperate. Heck, I’m sure Gage would be willing.”

It’s a cheap blow and I regret it the second it comes out of my mouth.

“Gage is dead. Badger shot him through the mouth.”


“Not soon enough!” All I can see is how it’s too little too late, how everything is broken beyond repair. “I told you I didn’t trust him, but you still let him dig for info that night at the pub—let him flirt and buy drinks and ask questions, and Blaine might still be alive if—”

“Oh, don’t you dare do that!” she snaps. “I know you’re upset, and devastated, but no! Not that. It isn’t fair. Do you realize everything we did—I did—to get back to you? I shot down over a dozen men for you. One of them couldn’t have been much older than us. It’s tearing me up, so don’t go making me regret it.”

“No one forced you to shoot them, Bree. Or to come after me.”

“Ugh, you drive me crazy!” she shrieks. “Just because you’re hurting doesn’t mean you get a free pass to hurt everyone else, Gray. You keep doing that, and no one will be there when you actually need them. Not even me.”

She pivots and is gone.

I stare after her, tongue-tied, trying to understand how I went from whimpering to raging in a matter of seconds. Earlier I wanted to tell her she was amazing, is amazing. Why didn’t I say that instead of things I don’t believe? She’s all I have left, and I just pushed her away.