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After a detailed conversation with James, the pressing matters he referred to earlier are now floating inside my head like rogue balloons impossible to gather in one place. They flow in and out of my field of vision, while I struggle to grasp them and look at them closer. But it’s hopeless. What I need is time to get my head around what I must do. There’s just never enough of that. All I know is that what James laid out in front of us is not some hastily-arranged plan, but something that must have been in the works for a while, anticipating the final creation of a cure.
Aydan and I sit at the table, staring at our hands, still digesting everything. Everyone else has moved along, back to the main warehouse to make their own preparations. Kristen is moving out, permanently relocating to a larger, well-equipped facility that, apparently, she uses on and off. James left to get in touch with other IgNiTe cell leaders and unify our attack plan. Jori, Spencer, and Margo are returning to their respective cells, eager to share what they have seen, eager to return to the fight with renewed hope.
We’ll have to stop staring at our hands soon. We’ll have to pack and head back where we’re needed most. Maybe we were hoping to stay and be able to fight together, rather than alone, but that would have been too good to be true.
“It’s stupid,” I say. “But I keep wishing he’ll come back and tell us we don’t have to go. I know I said I’d rather go back to Whitehouse, but now . . .”
Aydan chuckles. “Me, too.”
His black eyes lock with mine. After a beat, they move slowly across my face, searching my features with such intensity that I become self-conscious. Heat rises to my cheeks. I fidget on the spot, unsure of what to do or say. He scrutinizes me unapologetically, as if he’s trying to memorize me before we leave, before we go back and risk our lives and maybe never see each other again.
“I wish things were different,” he says.” I wish I could allow myself to hope, but I can’t. It hurts too much. I look at the future and, in spite of this cure, I don’t see anything. I try, but everything seems so dark, so uncertain. I fear what we’ll become in the end. Only God knows how many will die. I don’t see how anything will ever be the same in the end. Hope and dreams just seem a thing of the past.”
Aydan’s words resonate inside my head. They hit home and stick there because he’s describing the exact way I feel. Reality and hope don’t mix. Not anymore.
He stands abruptly, takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. His eyes are brimming with a desperate quality I’ve never seen in them before.
“What if I don’t see you again?” He takes a step closer. He’s barely a couple of inches away from me. “I know you’ve figured it out, but I have to . . . I have to tell you.”
My hand moves up, ready to land across his lips to silence him. It’s typical Marci, unable to give, unable to even take. But I’ve done this before. I silenced Xave when it most mattered. So, this time, I make a fist and press it to my side.
Opening up is hard, no matter what, but it’s a lot easier to do when it’s the right time. And this is the right time, if only because we’re alive.
“From the moment I met you at Howls,” Aydan says, “that day James brought you in to meet the team, you made an impression.”
I frown. He acted like he hated me. Now he says I made an impression?
“I know. I know.” He nods, noticing my skepticism. “From the way I acted, no one could have been able to tell, but it’s true. I just . . . well . . . you were with Xave, and I’ve never been good at these kinds of things. It didn’t help that you unsettled me. Your confidence, your attitude, your strength, and the fact that you were like me, a Symbiot. Don’t even mention your computer skills. They’re enough to intimidate any self-respecting hacker.” He gives me a wry smile. “You’re smart and witty and . . .”
He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. A warm thrill washes over me. I want to pull away and I want to stay. Emotions crash inside of me like worlds colliding. This is betrayal when I think of Xave. But, when I’m selfish, it feels right and fair and deserved. There’s no one left who truly loves me. Is it wrong to hope for one person to think I’m all the things Aydan says I am?
“And, on top of that, you’re beautiful.” He pauses. His eyes waver. “Marci, I’m in love with you. I know it’s the wrong time. It’s too soon, but I wanted to tell you in case we . . .” His voice breaks. He looks down and takes a deep, shuddering breath.
I lean forward slowly, as if he’s some sort of magnet I can’t resist. Gently, I rest my cheek on his chest. He lets out a small, startled sound at my unexpected closeness and wraps his arms around me in a tender, almost shy hug. His lips brush my forehead and stay there as we dare to relish this quiet, intimate moment.
I marvel that, in spite of my aloofness and all we’ve been through, he’s managed to build these feelings for me. I’m nothing like the way he sees me, not when I look in the mirror or think of the things I’ve done, and it makes me wonder about his sanity, but especially about the depth of his loneliness. But even though I might be the only option in his solitary life, I’m grateful he chose me, grateful his heart is big enough to love someone like me.
“Thank you.” It’s all I manage, even though I’d like to be able to offer more. There’s something new stirring inside of me, but how can I allow myself to explore it, to find a name for it? Hoping is so hard, especially when life has already taught me to fear instead.