If I'm a pagan of the good timesI met him at the door last night. So late. I've been once again fighting sleep. Slapping my ears, pinching my legs, trying to prop my eyes open but he smiles when he sees me because I'm not in Devil-clothes, I'm in Midway-day-off clothes. Bare feet, old jeans, tiny t-shirt emblazoned with a glitter rainbow. Hair sticking up all over the place (damn pixie), no makeup. I look young and untraveled. Unhistoried. Unbroken.
My lover's the sunlight
To keep the Goddess on my side
She demands a sacrifice
(Oh, I like that one.)
I saved dinner for you.
He drops all of his stuff on the floor. Thanks, Peanut. I'm starved actually. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck.
Didn't hear from you all day.
We have three months to get this stuff finished and out the door. It isn't going to be pretty- But then he stops and admits his fears. I figured you were busy with Diabhal anyway.
I don't feel so well. I told him I could come and work tomorrow though for a bit.
Me neither. The relief is solid, tangible. Textured with a faint hope clause I didn't know was written in. What did he have to say about that?
I didn't give him a chance to say anything. I didn't say I was going for an even division here, I just don't want to be shut down.. I just. I mean, he's like Cole and I don't have to-
I know, Bridget.
You're here. That's more than I expected.
I fed him dinner and we talked about movies for a bit and then we went upstairs and he dropped me down into bed and followed me in the night, pulling my jeans off, my shirt over my head, marveling at the lack of things underneath. Sipping Aberlour from a shared mug and trading bright loud for dark quiet. Just like old times. Just like young Lochlan and Bridget, making love without a recipe.
I'm sorry, I tell him again as I drift off to sleep. Blissfully. Finally. I don't mean to be difficult. I don't want to lose anyone else. In him I have both Caleb and Cole. And I can make him pay the price for his decisions too. You know this, Locket, you told me-
Go to sleep, Peanut.
But are you mad at me?
We'll talk tomorrow. I don't know what I am. I just can't even think about you going to him or I want to rip my brain out. It hurts so much.