Page 136 of The Muse
Does it make me selfish? Yes.
A liar? Yes.
But I think everything in my life has led me to her. I have to believe it.
One. Good. Thing.
I have to believe I’m deserving ofone good thing.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispers, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“Do this? What is this?” My words come out louder—more desperate—than I intend. “Talk? Be with me? Move in to an apartment together? Love me?”
“I … I don’t know,” she says, as if something inside of her has died.
Drawing in a sharp breath, I prepare to make another plea. But after holding it for a few seconds, I exhale in silence. It’s over.
Bowing my head, I step past her toward the bedroom door.
She reaches for my wrist. Her fingers wrapping around it feels like slow motion. It’s how my heart feels, stumbling over its next beat, looking for a steady rhythm, looking for purpose. No one has ever been this gentle.
Fuck every single tear that breaks free. I use my other hand to wipe them away. Her body shakes with more silent sobs. When she’s ready, I’ll walk away. But I won’t until she lets go. It can’t be me. I tried letting her go, but my heart is not capable of that.
“This stops now,” she says softly. “I bet you don’t know what it feels like to trust someone.”
“Don’t do this,” I say as emotions strangle my words.
“For someone to trust you.” She turns to face me.
But I can’t turn toward her. Not yet.
“I trust you,” she says. “And you can trust me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and hold my breath as the lump in my throat thickens.
“I trust that you love me.” She touches her palm to my cheek.
I grab it, holding it tightly as a sob rips from my chest.
“And you can trust me when I say you don’t have to cut yourself open and bleed for me. I will love your scars the way you have loved mine.”
My knees buckle, and I fall to them, hugging her waist while I cry more than I have ever cried in my life. Tears for the three-year-old boy whose mom abandoned him and every single moment that left one of those scars.
“Oh god …” I sob, my entire body shaking because I’ve never felt emotion like this—bone-deep.
I didn’t find June, Rupert, or Callie. Through them, I’ve found myself.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Flynn
“There she is.”June slides open a glass door that’s a whole wall. I’ve never seen anything like it. We step onto a covered terrace filled with furniture and an outdoor fireplace. A swimming pool with fountains and a diving board lie just beyond the terrace.
A blond and silver-haired woman in a white bikini and a long, sheer black cover-up eyes us from a round chair that’s the size of a small bed. “Zoya,” she says with a smirk.
“Grandma, I’d like you to meet Flynn.”
She sits up, sliding her legs off the side of the white cushion and offers her hand. “I’m Juni, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” She winks at June.
