Page 51 of The Other Side of Green

I swallowed hard. “Jack…” I looked up, his green gaze glittered with water, his Adam’s apple bobbed, the skin around his eyes tightening.

No, Jack. No. Please don’t be the one to break the dam… He would though. If one droplet of water slipped from his eye it would be my undoing.

“Lyra, trust me. I know you’ve got things going on, and I know you and I aren’t where I’d like us to be,” he flickered a frustrated frown, “but can you just trust me today and then tomorrow we will go back to whatever you need us to be.”

He looked so sincere, eyes bright, the skin around them taut. Just one day… one day of pretending that I could have all the things I so desperately wanted.

I craved it in my bones, feeling it call to me. One day. One day where I wasn’t a sinking ship of lies and secrets, mistakes.

That rope between us stretched again on the beat of one solid pound of my heart. I grasped it, pulled it to me, clasped on so I wouldn’t drown.

My own tears slipped as I made the connection, crossing the bridge I’d put between Jack and me.

I nodded. “You won’t leave me with her, will you?” I wiped at my snot, unable to stop the tidal wave.

This was the crest of the wave I’d been scared of.

But Jack had come, to save me, to keep me afloat.

Always Jack.

Wrong. Broken. Desperate. But always Jack.

“No, Lyra, I won’t ever leave.”

I shuddered in a deep breath.

The front door banged and Mom’s shrill voice curled itself around the house.

“Come down.” Jack held his hand out to me, a tear slipped down his cheek and we were doomed. I clasped it, entwining our fingers, shivering at the shift of energy in my soul.

“Come through the back.” I peered out of the window at the gray sky peering up at the heavy clouds. Maybe the rain would hold off for the procession.

Maybe Grams had arranged it with the big guy. No doubt she was bending his ear about something if she’d found her way to where she belonged.

Jack turned for his normal exit route—would we ever stop using windows instead of doors? Part of me hoped not. It was us, drainpipes and windowsills.

With a sharp inhalation of air, I opened my door and stepped out into the hallway. I could do this.

I could do this.

I couldn’t do this. Ever.

Jack watched me, his face torn as I hesitated in the doorway of the living room. Guilt gnawed at me inside. She’d been here since yesterday morning and I’d ignored her.

The guilt didn’t make me step any closer though.

I shivered as Jack ghosted into my space, his fingers clasping tight around mine. My gaze sought his, finding his smile curving at the edges. “One step at a time.”

I nodded tight, mechanical.

One step at a time.

I took it, like stepping off a cliff.

Another. Freefalling.

Another, heading to earth until I landed with impact, staring at my grams.