I saw a shadow cross the wall in the main room where a single bulb lit the large space. The room where I now stood, my heart beating quickly, was only dimly lit by what little light spilled in through the open door. I flattened my back against the wall, too afraid to call out.
When a shape appeared in the backlit doorway, I exhaled a breath I'd been holding. I'd know his shape anywhere—his height, the broad outline of his shoulders. Brogan. As always, my heart leaped toward him, joyous at his presence. I put my hand over the place where it lay under my skin, as if I could contain it in such a way. But it insisted in soaring with hope.
"He arrives in shadow," I said softly.
I heard him release a breath. "Just like a villain?"
My smile felt brittle, my heart rate picking up in speed. "No, sometimes heroes arrive in shadow, too. I . . . I suppose we keep trading the titles back and forth, don't we?" I'd been the villain once, too, here in this very room. I brought my hands in front of my body, gripping them together in anxiousness.
He took a step into the room, out of the direct light, allowing me to see him, allowing me to take in his bruised face.
I blinked. "God, what happened to you?"
He reached a hand up and rubbed his bruised jaw. The skin around one eye was tinged red, and he had a red cut along his cheekbone.
"Fionn and I had a talk," he said, one side of his mouth lifting in a small smile.
Ah. Fionn. I thought I understood. But then his smile faded and the pain in his expression broke my heart a little.
I shifted on my feet. "How'd you know where I was?" I asked.
"I didn't. I went to Daisy's first and didn't see your car. I came here next . . . Somehow I thought it might be where you'd go. Or maybe I just hoped."
"Oh." My breath hitched causing the word to break.
He paused, his eyes beseeching me, asking me . . . something. I waited, my pulse quickening. "Lydia, I . . ." He shook his head, a few snowflakes still sticking to his hair—the white crystals a striking contrast to the black strands. His expression was suddenly very raw. "I'm not very good at unrehearsed speeches. I . . ." He furrowed his brow, obviously struggling. I worked not to hold my breath as I waited, somehow knowing it was important to give him the time he needed to get his words right. "Well, Fionn says I have a way of complicating things that don't need to be complicated . . ." His eyes met mine. "Maybe he's right, and I think that if any place should inspire us to speak the simple truth, it's this place." I blinked back tears. "And so I'm just going to tell you what I should have told you at some party or another last year before I put my ridiculous revenge plan into action."
He walked closer, his pale eyes filled with what I thought was . . . fear. He was scared, but he was here. He was here. Oh Brogan.
He reached his hand out. My eyes wandered down to it. It was trembling and the sight filled me with tenderness. I took his hand in mine, the contact making me want to weep. He felt warm and solid and he gripped me as if he was never going to let me go. Oh please don't let me go. Not again. Please be here to stay.
"Lydia, it's so nice to see you after all these years. You look . . . God, you look even more beautiful than in my dreams. And I've dreamt about you so often. It scares me because each time I do, I wake up feeling hungry in that way I promised myself I'd never feel hungry again. Only this hunger can only be satisfied by you, and I'm . . . I'm not sure what to do about that." He ran his tongue over his front teeth, his eyes clear, blue pools of vulnerability, and I sucked in a shaky breath. "So I'm hoping you might have some ideas better than my own." I sniffled, tears pricking my eyes. He gazed at me so seriously, his expression so deeply pained. And I wanted to take him in my arms, but I didn't. "Before you say anything, you should know that, since I saw you last, I've done some things I'm not proud of, survived in ways that still bring me shame. But . . . but I'm hoping, God I'm hoping so hard that you can find it in your heart to understand and maybe help me forgive myself, because I've never been very good at that. But above anything, what I'm hoping is that we can get to know each other again and forgive each other for the things we did, both intentionally and unintentionally. Because I'd really like to take you somewhere warm where I can buy you a meal and then bring you back to my house and make love to you the way I wish I'd known how to do the first time."
I let out a small, sniffle-laden laugh and took a step closer to him, my heart swelling with love. "That would have been a lot to take in," I said, my smile soggy as a tear rolled down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.
I pressed my lips together so they wouldn't begin trembling. "What about Courtney?" I finally whispered, my heart squeezing as I swallowed, bracing myself. Whatever he told me, I was going to try my best to understand.
"Courtney's gone back to New York City to her own life. I only . . . God, Fionn's right, I'm an eejit." He released a loud whoosh of air. "She was lying to me. She was manipulating me, and I let her. Partly because of my own guilt. But partly because as long as Courtney was around, it meant denying myself the option of begging you for forgiveness. I thought it'd make it easier on you and on me. I didn't want you to forgive me, and I was so scared I was going to beg you to do it anyway, because I wanted you back so damned badly. I haven't touched her, Lydia. She kissed me twice, and I let her, and I'm sorry about that, not only to you, but to myself because," he shook his head, wincing slightly, "she was all wrong. She wasn't you."