“‘I’ve never seen him light up like that with any woman.’ That’s what he said to me that night. That’s what you wanted to know when you were sober.”
I avert my gaze, but she presses in.
“He smiled when he said it, Tobias. I wish you could have seen that smile because if you had been there—if you had seen it—you would know without a doubt that he wanted you to be happy, even if that meant losing me. What we had was beautiful, but you’re placing too much importance on the wrong relationship, and I can see in your eyes, you know it’s the truth, but admitting it means admitting he died for you. And he did saving you, Tobias.”
“Cecelia,” I beg the burn in my throat causing me to choke.
“He loved you just as fiercely and unconditionally as you did him. He was angry but just as protective of you and your happiness, and that’s why he saved you.”
“Goddamnit!” I snap, and she pins me where I sit, steadfast and pressing in further.
“The truth is, he pushed you out of the way that night before he caught any bullet to shield me. He gave his life for yours. You refuse to accept that, and that’s what’s hurting you most.” She pulls me into her chest as I begin to tremble as grunts pour out of me. She wraps around me, refusing to let me free as she whispers the truth, a truth I would do anything to forget. “It’s past time you face it and accept it. I’m not the only one he saved that night, Tobias. You have to accept his sacrifice. Even if you’re angry about it, you have to accept that his love for you was just as strong, and you have to accept that he forgave you and loved you enough to want you to be happy. You have to unshackle yourself from this guilt, or you’ll never be able to accept the rest of the gift he gave you.”
I press my face into her chest and shudder with the onslaught of the truth I’ve been avoiding since the life left his eyes. From the time I held him as a baby in my arms, knowing he belonged to me, to the day he looked up at me and faded away, he was mine.
“Je suis désolé, Je suis désolé, je suis vraiment désolé, Je suis vraiment désolé.” I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.
“You have to thank him by living,” she murmurs as I exhaust myself while soul-deep remorse rolls through me. It doesn’t feel like punishment. It’s rawer than that. It’s bloodletting, implosion, and at the same time, a strange sort of release. I don’t want that so much, because if it happens, if I forget one single detail of any memory, I won’t get it back.
Falling apart in her arms, she murmurs to me, running her fingers all over my skin, through my hair, smoothing her hand down my back. I’m unsure of how long we stay in that chair when I finally come to, her murmurs constant, her tears pelting my skin as I come back into myself, into my present, exhausted but far from empty. It’s not a flood of relief, but it’s the cusp of a little release.
Shaken by what just transpired, I bury my face into her neck and inhale, her scent calming me to the point I can take full breaths. Lifting my eyes to hers, she shakes her head as I open my mouth to speak, so fucking raw from emotions I can barely manage.
“Don’t you dare apologize to me,” she says softly.
“I don’t know if I’m the man you fell for,” I confess. “I don’t know if I ever will be again.”
“I know.”
“I’ve never been a king, Cecelia.”
“That’s where we disagree. You don’t see what I see. Maybe you never have. All you seem to see are your mistakes, and I’m determined to change that. But to me, you’re everything.”
The uncomfortable feeling threatens, but I ignore it, knowing I’m completely exposed. But with her, I always have been, whether it be the unchecked desire she draws from me, my darkest thoughts, my truest truths, or my unrelenting need for her. She’s always managed to peel me apart, layer by layer, cracking my foundation to get deeper than any other has ever gone.