Warmth in Ice (Find You in the Dark #2.5)(9)
Author: A. Meredith Walters

The hateful coil of jealousy reared its head and without another word, and before Maggie could turn back around, I disconnected the call. I quickly logged out of my computer and slammed it closed with a decisive bang. I pulled the plug from the wall and the picked up the laptop and shoved it in my desk drawer as if I could shove away the ugly emotions burning a hole in my gut.

My breath came in painful bursts.

I had come so far. Yet how easy it was for me to lose all of that at the thought of Maggie disappearing forever.

4

Fall Break sucked a fat one. I spent most of the time volleying between being miserable and morose and being annoyed and pissed off. Rachel and Daniel had decided to stay at their school, so I didn’t even have my best friends to keep me company.

Clay and I continued to talk every night but after our argument, the conversations changed. There was a distance and decisive chill that I couldn’t undo. I tried to bridge the widening gap but every time I thought I was getting closer, Clay took another step back.

And I made a million and one excuses for his altered behavior. He was tired. He had a lot on his plate right now. I wasn’t being fair or understanding enough.

At one time, I had been the master of enabling explanations where Clayton Reed was concerned. It was a habit I had hoped to have outgrown by now. But it was like last year’s pants that had become too tight. It was uncomfortable as hell but I still tried to squeeze my fat ass in them.

“How’s group going?” I asked Clay on the last night of break. I was helplessly trying to hang onto the conversation, though it had died of awkwardness about twenty minutes ago.

“It’s going,” Clay responded noncommittally. Damn, I wanted to throttle him.

“What sort of stuff do you talk about?” I tried again. Clay was quiet for a while and I was starting to wonder if I was speaking into dead air.

“Last week we talked about the holidays. You know because Thanksgiving is a month a way and shit. Holidays are usually hard for most of us, so we were working through triggers and coping plans,” Clay said and I was thrilled. Not that he was planning ways to get through a painful holiday season, but that he was actually talking. Actually sharing. I was tiptoeing back in.

“And what’s your plan?” I asked him, pushing that door wide open again. I didn’t do timid. I wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around the very focal point of our lives. His treatment and his recovery were the most important things our worlds. I wanted the XYZs and the 123s.

“Seeing Ruby. Remembering to be thankful for those who love me,” he said quietly and then added, “Seeing your face even if it’s just on a computer screen. Being appreciative that you’re there even when I don’t deserve it.”

My heart became tight in my chest and my cheeks hurt from smiling. After a week of bullshit, this was nice to hear.

“Is that your way of saying sorry?” I asked, with only a hint of teasing.

“It’s my way of saying I should never have been an ass**le in the first place,” he admitted and I felt the knot in my stomach begin to loosen.

“I’m not going to argue with you,” I said more harshly than I intended.

Clay became quiet again and we sat there, listening to each other breathe.

“Do you think we can do this?” he asked finally and the knot gripped tightly again.

“What do you mean?” I asked sounding sort of panicky.

“I just think we were incredibly naïve to believe that we could handle being this far away from each other. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.” I hated the stark sadness in Clay’s voice.

How often would he doubt what we had together? How many times would I have to convince him that together we could handle anything?

That together, we would make it.

“I refuse to have this conversation with you again, Clay,” I said in frustration.

I could almost picture Clay putting his hands through his hair in his characteristic agitated gesture. His fingers curling into fists as he fought against the urges screaming in his head. The thought of him struggling in any way made me want to back off and play nice.

The instinctual fear that resided in my heart clawed its way to the surface. Our history dictated my response. Clay had never handled dissention between us very well. It was ingrained in me to retreat, to placate, and to surrender.

But if we were ever going to move away from our past, I had to check those instincts and give us both a hefty dose of tough love. And that meant calling my boyfriend on his shit.

“I’m serious, Maggie, this is eating me alive!” his voice rose and I winced at the desperation I heard.

“Fucking hell, Clayton! Yes, this sucks, but it’s not forever. And I swear to God if you try this whole I’m letting you go because I love you too much line of crap again, I will smack the crap out of you!” I threatened.

Finally Clay laughed but it was a sad sound. “I learned the hard way that letting you go isn’t possible,” he said softly.

I ran my fingers over the ink on the inside of my wrist. The rune Uruz, black against my skin, seemed to remind me that healing took time but that it was possible. It was necessary. And I couldn’t give up on the boy who had come so far.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Clay, but you have to trust me. You have to trust us. Because I would rather be there, beside you, than anywhere else. We made promises to each other and we have to remember that at the end of all this, there will only be you and me.”

I felt the truth of those words in the pit of my soul. Because Clay wasn’t just my first love. He was my forever love. And I would fight for that forever until I was bloodied and broken. And then, only he could put me back together.

We didn’t function in half ways and maybes. We were always. We were constant.

We were endless.

And one day we wouldn’t be struggling for every heartbeat. We wouldn’t be walking uphill against the weight of his illness and our combined insecurities.

I wasn’t delusional. I knew that a lifetime with him would be to face a barely restrained uncertainty. But I was convinced that eventually, we’d be able to relax and finally just…be.

And it was that that kept my dreams peaceful and my sleep undisturbed. Because there was no other option for the boy and the girl who had walked through fire and now waited for the smoke to disappear.

“I know, baby,” he said and then chuckled. “Look at you, two months in school and you’re already a f**king genius.”