Page 256 of Red Marked

Fuck.

Magma said as much.

“That’s not it.”

“It is. Stop with the bullshit. I know because I’m you, to a degree. I don’t put myself out there. I’m afraid too.” He looks at the certificate on the wall instead of at me. “I’m fucking terrified of love. I’m terrified of being hurt. I know how it can go down. Now that I’ve seen you, I’m worse than before. I don’t want to be you.”

“What about that human? The one you were telling me about?”

“I pushed her away.” He lifts a shoulder. “It’s what I do. Takes one to know one.” He looks back at me. “So here’s the deal. You’re miserable. You’re seriously fucking pathetic.”

“Hey!” I’m up again with a finger pointed at him.

“You are! I’m not sugarcoating, remember?” He doesn’t flinch. “You may as well go and get the girl, because you’re sad and pathetic right now anyway. Go. Be with her. Take a chance for once in your life. If she leaves you in the future, you’ll be exactly like you are right now. But at least you’ll have done everything in your power to be happy. At least you won’t have given up without a fight.”

I shake my head.

“I’m right. I swear I am. You’re sad, lost, and⁠—”

“You can stop now.” It comes out as a laugh. I sit back down. “Okay, maybe I’ve been a little irritable.”

“A little? You’ve been impossible.” He shakes his head. “Please. Go and see her. Beg her to give you a chance. Tell her you’re in love with her.”

“Okay. Okay. I can handle it.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He stands. “But I can only do so much. It’s up to you now. Good luck, Flint. Just so you know, I’m going to tell Brian to tear up that report and that he can go home on his next rotation.”

I nod.

He leaves.

Is it me?

Crap.

It might be.

Atlas wished me luck. I think I’m going to need it. Hopefully, I haven’t completely blown it.

71

Star

After being home for a few days, I found myself feeling a little depressed, which is stupid. It irritated me.

It still does.

I miss Flint. I’ve tried hard not to, but I can’t help it. I knew I was falling for him, but I think it’s worse than I suspected.

I think about him all the damned time.

So when my mother told me over dinner the other night that they’d kept all of my things, and they’d kept putting off getting rid of them, I was glad they hadn’t. I started going through them.

Now I’m sitting on the garage floor, sorting through everything. I have “Keep,” “Donate,” and “Trash” piles. The trash pile is small and is mainly anything to do with Jett, including pictures of us and a dress he gave me. I don’t want any of it. The keep pile is bigger than it should be. I’ve managed to put a few things on the donate pile, but not that much. I think after not having much of anything for years, I’m struggling with giving anything up. Maybe if I give myself a bit of time, I’ll get over it.

I open another box.

It’s good to be busy. It keeps my mind off things.