Neither did I but I love you all the same. I love you.
And desperation had clawed at him as he’d said those words. Because abandonment was something he couldfeel. But she’d moved away from him.
And then a splash into the water, and no more sound. No more girl.
I love you.
But it hadn’t been enough. It was never enough. It was too much and futile all at once. And the stars suddenly seemed like they were falling down around him. It was the quiet moments that hurt. These moments. When there were no expectations from her family. When there was nothing but them. And the feelings that grew between them. There was no sex to distract them, no noise. And he wasn’t alone; damn but he wasn’t alone.
He had cultivated being alone with someone next to him and made it an art, but he couldn’t do it with her.
She’d gotten under his skin somehow. And it wasn’t about Four Corners and how the Sullivans would judge him and Sawyer would disown him.
It wasn’t about her parents and what they thought of him. Or about living up to some standard he’d never seen played out around him.
It was just her. And him.
It was terrifying. There was no range to ride, no fixed fence. She wasn’t panting and writhing beneath him, begging for pleasure.
She was just sitting with him. Demanding nothing. Letting the feelings grow between them. Offering things to him that he had never asked for. And not even waiting to give them before she knew if he’d offer them in return.
“I love you.”
And his heart stopped.
Because he knew this. He knew how it went.
I love you. And silence in return.I love you, and then they were gone.I love youand nothing but the broad expanse of stars, the terrible, silent water and Wolf alone.
It always ended with him alone.
He believed in the power of love. In the terrible, awful way that it reached inside you and rearranged everything that you were. In the way that it grabbed you and shook you like a ragdoll, left you broken and bleeding.
He believed that love could destroy you when you were in it alone.
And at the same time, he believed in its weakness.
Because a little boy who loved his mother with all he was hadn’t been able to keep her from leaving. And loving Breanna... It hadn’t been enough to keep her alive. To make her want him, to keep her happy, and it was all bound up in her loss.
Yeah, his love was powerful enough to chase people away.
There was no magic in it. It didn’t make everything okay. Didn’t make everything better. It was both, somehow. This wildly destructive force that cut through the heart of the landscape in his soul, and a powerless, weak emotion that left you devastated. That didn’t hold people to you. Or hold them to the earth. That didn’t guarantee happiness or success or anything at all.
It was a promise that couldn’t be kept. And it chained you to people. And chained them to you forever.
While still not being enough. While still not lasting.
And he couldn’t say it back to her. He couldn’t do anything with it. He let it disappear on the air along with her breath. And all the while his blood boiled. The events of the day suddenly crashing in on him. The baby’s heartbeat. The family dinner. The talk with her father.
The way that Alison had looked at him, like a lost little boy who needed a mother. Yeah, well, he had been. And he hadn’t had one. It didn’t matter. That was the thing. It just didn’t matter.
And whatever Violet thought...
Love wasn’t enough. And so he let it fade into the silence. Love wasn’t enough, so he let it evaporate.
She didn’t say anything more. She just rubbed her hand over his, and he felt... He felt sick. He felt like every last shortcoming that he was.
They finished their hot chocolate, folded up the blankets and walked into the house. Alison and Cain were still up, sitting in the chairs in the living room.