I inhale the fucking gardenia again and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Fuck.”
I bring the petal down and narrow my eyes at it.
It’s all brown now, a little torn. I stuff it in my pocket anyway. Maybe I could get my own gardenia plant and make myself smell the damn thing every day. Until I’m okay with it. Then Gwenna could bring hers back inside.
I drag myself to my feet, find the cake cover, and spend a few minutes engineering a transport so I can move the cake without ripping it apart.
Then I check on Gwen again. She’s sleeping peacefully. Which means she’ll never know what I’m about to do.
TWENTY-FOUR
Barrett
I look down on her for a moment. Watching her ribs expand with breath. Running my gaze along her soft form, cushioned by the blankets. Smelling the sweet, fruity scent of the air in her bedroom.
As I look at her, I try to look inward at myself. All I really see is the fury of desire I feel for her. It’s consuming, dangerous. I know this. From the first day I watched her, I felt things for her I’d never felt for any other person living on the other side of my crosshairs. Things I’ve never felt for anyone at all.
I told myself that there were reasons for that: all our parallels; her strength; her undeniable beauty, so much of which remains untouched, despite her worry to the contrary. I told myself that maybe right then, anyone would do. I’d been lonely before, and fucked up. But never like this…
I try not to think right now about those details.
Gwenna wants me. I want her—so much, my eyes are wet. My throat aches as I blink down at her.
I ask myself: if she knew…
If.
And the awful thing is, I trust in her goodness so damn much…
If Gwenna knew. I’m able to tell myself that maybe…
It’s possible she wouldn’t care.
She’s just so good. And kind. Forgiving.
There’s a voice that says I don’t deserve it, but there’s a louder one and it screams need.
I need her now, like air and water. More.
I think about it—not a whole thought, even, just a frame of memory, the sensation of my jaw clenching around the barrel of my 9mm. How cold it was. And how I couldn’t do it. Not there in the Ft. Bragg place I shared with Breck, with all his shit boxed up around me.
So I thought I could do this instead.
I turn away from her and hold my head. I walk through her office and lean against the doorframe, facing the living room. I don’t belong here, and I know I don’t. But…I can’t help myself. I’m bad, and maybe I can fight that by being good to her.
The whole thing—what I know— it would be a fucked up kind of self-flagellation on my end. Which I like. Which seems fitting.
I can make this up to her. Not really. But I can spend as much time as she’ll let me trying to.
With that thought pasted to the forefront of my mind, I touch my pocket, feeling the hardness of my phone. I look over my shoulder, as if I’ll find Gwenna waiting there, and when I don’t, I quietly go outside. Down her steps, into the woods between our properties. So I’m too far from her cams to ever be picked up, even the echo of my voice.
I call Dove.
It rings twice before he answers.
“Well, look who’s calling me. I must be special.”