23- the short good-bye
Reece closes the door behind me and frowns. “What’s the matter? You look like you’re about to be ill.”
That’s because I am about to be ill. My heart aches in a way that feels very much like it’s breaking. I ball my hands into fists and choke back a sob.
If I don’t do this now, I won’t do it at all. And then it will be too late.
The kitchen no longer smells like pancakes and syrup, but dish detergent and cotton. I don’t take off my coat.
Brooke breezes in, hand up and eyes averted. “Ignore me. I’m just getting some water.”
“N-no problem,” I stammer out. “We’re just talking.”
She slides assessing eyes over me and arches a brow. “Not the good kind of talking.”
I glance away as Reece’s scowl turns confused.
“What’s going on, Angie?” he asks.
“I met a friend of yours in the woods.”
“Really?” Brooke’s brows raise. “Who?”
“Hank,” I say flatly.
Reece’s eyes squeeze shut. “Brooke, would you mind leaving us alone, please?”
Brooke lets out a low whistle. “Oh boy. I’d rather not, but…” She shrugs, forgets the water, and leaves with a sympathetic look to Reece.
“You actually…saw him?” he asks with a grimace.
“What’s left of him, yes.” My mouth hardens. “It so happens, he’s a friend of mine, too.” I take a deep breath and steel myself. “But you know that already.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, expression cool. “So I guess you had quite a talk.”
“You should have told me Hank was one of you—a harbinger of death. You should have told me we were friends when we were kids.” I swing my arms wide. “Your name was Troy. I can’t believe you never told me that.”
“I was a little surprised you didn’t remember me at all. I thought…” He shakes his head. Hurt flashes in his eyes. “Anyway, you didn’t. I tried to keep my distance. But I couldn’t, obviously. And after, I couldn’t find a way to tell you about our past that wasn’t weird and disturbing.”
My resolve slips, just a little. I cross my arms, determined to do what I need to do. “You want to hear weird and disturbing? That was my mom I saw in Rafette’s features.”
His brows pull together. “Hank told you that? He knows that’s not—”
“Possible?” I finish for him. “It is. He declined a bargain with Rafette, who stung my mom. And he was turned into…whatever he is now, by some ancient creature who monitors you all and changed him because he pulled her out of a burning building.” My eyes narrow. “You knew Hank and my mother were connected. You can’t dole out a tiny slice of the truth and leave out the rest. That’s just another form of lying.”
Hurt flares in his eyes, but his voice is sharp. “Look, I knew they dated for a while, and I tagged along to see you when Hank visited your mom. He didn’t tell me any more than that. Sure, I could have cornered Hank, pressured his already tortured self into sharing his most shameful secret. Would it have made you feel better to know that no matter what Hank chose to do, he was doomed?” He runs an agitated hand through his hair. “I couldn’t tell you about how we met without telling a story that wasn’t mine to tell. It was Hank’s, and he decided to share it with you now.”
“It wasn’t just Hank’s story, but mine and yours, too. We knew each other long before you moved to Cadence, Reece.” I turn away, shoving the damp clumps of my hair out of my eyes. “You should have told me the truth. All of it. I deserved to know that you are in real danger from Rafette. I deserved to know what this relationship could cost you.”
“I was trying to—”
“If you say ‘protect you,’ I’m going to belt you in the mouth. I swear, I will.”
His lips twitch. “I won’t apologize for trying to protect you from the ugly side of what we are.”
“I don’t want your protection, Reece,” I tell him. “I want honesty.”
“You think you’ve seen it all? That nothing can shock you?” he asks, low and menacing. “You’re wrong. You think this thing with people getting stung by Beekeeper bees and having psychotic episodes is bad. Let me tell you this—very soon you are not going to like what you see around here.”
My palms sweat. My heart pounds like a kick drum. My thoughts are not brave. His buildup to this disaster is scaring me, and I’m all full of scary for the week. For a lifetime. “Okay, enough,” I rasp out. “I get it.”
“You don’t. That’s the problem.” Reece sighs and rubs his palms on his jeans. “Why don’t you sit down?” It’s a gentle suggestion spoken with a sad voice. His anger has vanished.
“No, thank you.” I don’t think I can be here much longer. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. “Reece, Hank pointed out some very clear, very real reasons why regular people and harbingers shouldn’t mix. He, himself, was exhibit A.” My voice wobbles, but my everything else holds firm. “I don’t want us to end up like Hank and my mom. I don’t want to get stung by a Beekeeper bee and you…” I won’t tell him what Hank revealed to me about Reece’s feelings, or the lengths he believes Reece will go to save me. It’s a shot to the nuts when I’m already doing enough damage. “I don’t want you to become like him. You’re going to leave anyway, so we should just…end this now. Before we start to have feelings for each other.”
He stares at me, dumbfounded. “We already have feelings for each other, Angie. We have so little time left, I don’t want to… I thought maybe we could work out something…for after I left.” I can see his throat working as he swallows. He knows where this is going. Knows there’s no chance of changing the outcome of this conversation, but he tries, anyway, and it hurts so bad to hear it, I can hardly breathe. “I’m not ready to say good-bye, Angie.”
“Well, I am.” I say it firmly. With a clarity that surprises me. “What do we have, anyway? A week? Maybe two? Good-bye is inevitable, isn’t it? You think you can do what Hank did, swing in and out of town in between disasters?” I shake my head. “No, thank you.”
“Hank told you to break up with me?” Reece doesn’t wait for a reply, as it must be written all over my face. A splotchy flush creeps up his neck, into his cheeks. “Let’s not forget that this guy is not exactly human anymore.”
I jerk back. “And you are? If my mother had stayed away from Hank, neither of them would have ended up the way they did. We should learn from their mistakes.”
“If your mom hadn’t met Hank, she’d have died in that fire.”
“Maybe she should have!” I shout, hating the words, the guilt curling through me. “She suffered. So did I.”
He comes forward, removing the distance between us. “We can keep each other safe by sticking together. Beekeepers feed on fear and chaos, and they don’t store it well. Rafette can’t stay here; that means after the disaster in Cadence, he’ll leave.” One hand comes up, brushes my cheek. I force myself not to lean in to it. “Don’t do this,” he says softly. “You’re smart enough to know we’re stronger together.”
“I’m smart enough to know this is a lost cause.” I break away from his touch, his warmth. “I’m sorry, Reece. This just isn’t worth it. I think maybe…” There’s a lump in my throat the size of a small boulder. “My feelings aren’t the same as yours.” My voice is an echoey hollow. I cross to the back door, not quite feeling my feet on the floor.
This feels so wrong, it shouldn’t be real. But this is my voice saying, “Good-bye, Reece.”
And this is my body, walking out the door.
Quite possibly leaving my heart behind.