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Life doesn’t live itself for you, and nothing is promised to us.
I miss the feeling of fall. I miss wet leaves smashed into a slippery carpet beneath my feet. I miss the cold turning my nose pink and burning my lungs on long, snowy runs. I miss darkness, as weird as that might sound. I miss candles and hearth fires and hunkering down with a book once the sun set at dinnertime.
She’s doing what all people should but many don’t.”
She’s happy, and her eyes are sunshine bright, the luminous color of melted caramel.
Pissing her off is easy, and for safe emotional distance, preferable.
Her voice is liquid velvet, poured sunlight. It’s smooth and low and soft around the edges.
Because while silence has healed me, while silence has always been my friend, and I will always need it, I want the choice to hear as much as I can, to speak when I want, to communicate in whatever way suits me best.
I didn’t need you. I don’t need anyone. “But, Sunshine,” I mutter to the empty room, “what if I need you?”
“We’ve been playing with fire for a while. I don’t think Willa likes feeling as if she got burned and I didn’t.” Mom nods and sets down her cup. “But you did, too, didn’t you? Maybe you’ve even been burned the worst?”
Nothing stops making every inch of me burn for her.
“You really think that once I had you, I’d ever let us end over something so inconsequential.”
“I’m scared too, Sunshine. This is vulnerable shit.” His mouth is a breath away from mine. “I just know I’d rather be afraid with you than fearless with anyone else.”
“You’re quiet, Brawny.” “I’m always quiet, Willa.” “No, you’re not. I mean, sometimes you are but, generally, you talk to me plenty.” Ryder stops on the trail, making me bump into him. Slowly, he turns and peers down at me. “I guess I do. But that’s different. That’s only when it’s us.”
