Page 34 of The Editor’s Choice

“I try not to dream,” she says, voice tinged with a sadness that pulls at my heart. “But when I do… I dream of a modest house in the mountains, where I can sit on the back porch and enjoy the view while I drink my wine. Off white, black shudders. Huge picture windows in the back. Homey, comfortable. With a library, of course, so I can work on my writing and read until my heart’s fulfilled.” The look on her face is one of pure contentment, yet still full of longing.

“All by yourself?” I ask, forgetting about the game as I find myself wrapped up in her dreams.

“Those aren’t the rules, Roman,” she scolds, though the smile on her face is anything but serious. “Only one question at a time. It’s your turn to choose now.”

“Dare.” I say, taking the risk and silently praying I don’t regret it.

“About damn time,” she chuckles before taking another sip of wine. “I dare you to do something you’ve wanted to do for a long time but haven’t had the confidence to do yet.”

She’s gonna be the death of me. I move slowly, wrapping my hand around her upper arm as I pull her over toward me. I pull my leg up and over her before pulling her against me so her back is laying flush against my chest with one of my legs on either side of her.

Her content sigh has my heart reeling into a free fall, destined for death when I hit the bottom. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to enjoy the fall.

“Truth or dare?” I coax in her ear, barely above a whisper. I see the tiny bumps rise on her neck, giving her away.

“Umm. I’m going to go with… dare.”

“Such a risk taker,” I joke. “I dare you to tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

“Fuck. Truth? Changed my mind.”

“That’s not how this works,” I chuckle, readjusting underneath her so we fit together more snugly. She leans her head back against my shoulder, relaxing into me finally.

“Cheater,” she says, and I swear I can hear the eye roll, even if she is being playful. “I’m feeling… scared. Overwhelmed. Confused. A lot,” she admits, careful not to say too much.

“I completely get that. Want to talk about it? Maybe we can talk it out and get you feeling better,” I suggest, hating that she’s feeling that way. I was hoping for a different answer entirely.

“I’m not even sure where to start,” she admits, taking another sip and frowning when she finds her glass nearly empty now. “This whole thing between us, whatever this is, has been so complicated. Sometimes I feel like we have something, then it turns around and it’s like I never existed to you. It makes my head spin.” I have a feeling the alcohol is making her a little braver than she would normally be. Truthfully, she’s the bravest and boldest person I know when it comes to anything except feelings. Those don’t seem to be her strong suit.

“You’re totally right. It has been complicated,” I agree, running my fingertips over the back of her hand lightly. “But that’s been because I was pushing you away. Trying to find a way to not get close to you. The hardest I pushed you away, the more I wanted you though. I wasn’t being honest with you because I was afraid the truth would push you away for good.”

She sits up now, turning to face me on the couch. As scary as this conversation is, it needs to happen, and it feels good to finally get it off my chest.

“The honest to god’s truth is I’m not a good man, Jade. I’ve done some truly horrible, disgusting things. Things nobody should be capable of doing, and it’s made me feel like a monster for years. I don’t want you to be affected in any way by that,” I say, holding her gaze.

“That’s bullshit, Roman. You don’t get to decide for me, especially by keeping me in the fucking dark!” She’s pissed, and I can’t say I even blame her. She takes a huge inhale, holds it in, then slowly exhales through her nose until I’m positive there can’t be even a molecule of oxygen left in her lungs.

“Never mind. It doesn’t even matter now. I wasn’t completely honest with you either. Neither of us were anywhere close to perfect in this whole freaking mess.” She seems frustrated now as she pulls her knees to her chest and rests her cheek on them, no longer looking at me.

“So what now?” I echo her question from earlier. I can feel myself starting to spiral inside, mostly from fear of the unknown and where this might be headed. I’ve never needed a single soul in this life, not since I was 15 and had to figure shit out for myself. But I need her.

The realization hits like a ton of bricks, and I’m suddenly queasy, the alcohol not sitting well at all. This is bad.

“What do you want?” she asks simply, raising her head to look at me once more.

“You,” I answer instantly.

“And what if I’m too much? Or not enough?” she questions, eyes starting to fill with unshed years of insecurities. “What if I get caught?” The question is no more than a whisper, the gravity of our situation settling in.

“You won’t,” I answer honestly. I’m sure the police will eventually piece it all together, if they care to dig that deep, but I’ll make damn sure there are never any repercussions for her actions. “I want you, all of you, no matter the cost. No matter the situation. No matter how happy, how heart-wrenchingly devastating. I want you, or nothing at all.”

She sniffles before throwing herself at me, pushing me back against the armrest of the couch as her body molds to mine once again. I’m overtaken by a feeling of home. Complete. Final.

Fuck. So this is what it feels like to find your person.

Snuggling her head into my shoulder to hide her teary eyes, she wraps her arms around my body, holding on like she’s found a life raft in the middle of the ocean. Her only hope for making it home safe. It’s not long before sniffles are accompanying the sounds of our breathing, and it shatters my heart.

“Hey, look at me,” I coax, pushing gently against her shoulders in a weak attempt to persuade her. Shaking her head emphatically, she lays down against me again, finding a little comfort in our closeness. Instead of pushing the issue, I rub my palms down her back slowly, begging the gods to bring her some semblance of peace.