Squaring his shoulders, he braced himself. “I have one thing to ask.”
“What would that be,” she said roughly.
“Don’t scrub me. I won’t tell anyone about you or your kind—I swear on my mother. Just . . . leave me as is when you go. Without my mind, I’ve got less than the nothing.”
Payne had been flying high when she’d left the compound. Her brother had shared the incredible news as soon as she had returned just before dawn, and she’d spent the entire day vacillating between floating on a cloud and being really impatient with how slowly time was moving.
Then she had come here.
It was hard to imagine that her heart had been so full of joy just ten minutes ago.
It was not, however, hard to understand Manuel’s position. And she was surprised that neither of them had anticipated the larger implications of her . . . healing power. Or whatever it was.
Of course it would affect him.
Looking at Manuel, she found the tension in him unbearable: He was honestly and truly anxious about what he would be left with if she took the memories of their time together away from his conscious reach. And why wouldn’t he be? He had lost his beloved job because of her. His body and his mind were in danger because of her.
Fates, she should never have gotten near him.
And this was precisely why intermixing with humans was frowned upon.
“Worry not,” she said softly. “I shall not compromise you mentally. I have done more than enough.”
As he exhaled his relief, she felt tears clog her throat.
He stared at her for a beat. “Thank you.”
She bowed a little, and when she righted herself, she was shocked to see a shimmering in his beautiful mahogany eyes.
“I want to remember you, Payne. . . all of you. All of it.” That sad, yearning stare of his searched her face. “The way you tasted and felt. The sound of you laughing . . . gasping. The time I had next to you—” His voice cracked, and he recovered by clearing his throat. “I need those memories to last me a lifetime.”
Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks as her heart stopped working properly.
“I’m going to miss you, bambina. Every day. Always.”
When he held out his arms, she went into them and lost her composure completely. Sobbing into his shirt, she was enveloped by his strong, solid body, and she held him as tightly as he did her.
And then they both broke the embrace at the same time, as if they were of one heart. And she supposed they were.
Indeed, there was a part of her that wanted to fight and argue and try to make him see another side, another way. But she was not sure there was one to be had. She could no more predict the future than he could, and she knew no more about the repercussions of what had changed within him than he did.
There was nothing left to be said. This end that had arrived unexpectedly was an impact that could not be cushioned by talk or touch or even, she suspected, time.
“I shall go now,” she said, backing away.
“Let me get the door for you—”
As she dematerialized out of his home, she realized those were the last words he would speak to her.
That was their good-bye.
Manny stared at the space his woman had just inhabited. There was nothing of her there anymore; she’d disappeared into thin air sure as a shaft of light that had been cut off.
Gone.
His immediate impulse was to go into the front hall closet, get out his baseball bat, and wreck the place. Just break all the mirrors and glass and dishes and shit—then get to work throwing what little furniture he had over the lip of the terrace. After that . . . maybe he’d take his Porsche out onto the Northway, get ’er up to a hundred, and pilot a course that terminated in the underpinnings of a bridge.
No seat belt in this scenario, obviously.