I'm walking down the lineHe sat in front of me on an old wooden stool while I sat on the top step of the camper, on the kitchen floor proper, holding my arm out straight in front of me, using my other hand to prop it up because this was taking a long time.
That divides me somewhere in my mind
On the border line
Of the edge and where I walk alone
Read between the lines
Of what's fucked up and everything's alright
Check my vital signs
To know I'm still alive and I walk alone
Hold still, Lochlan barks at me with pins between his teeth. He really did a number on this.
He is unpinning my heart. Said brusquely that it can't stay there, that it needs to be protected, and if it doesn't fit then he will keep it.
You already do, I remind him as he ignores me, loud and clear. You've had it forever.
Right. It's mine but you keep throwing it out there like a boomerang, and there are people in the way so it gets stuck in them and then you have to go dig it out and that seems stressful and unnecessary. Stop throwing it.
I'm trying but they seem to need it.
They will live without it.
In my world that's not an offhand remark, it's a dangerous gamble.
Well, what do you want me to do, then?
Help me keep it locked up so it won't get out.
Lock you down? Jake tried that and it made things worse. Ben didn't and you hardly left his side. Trying to sign up for the end already are you?
Never. This is it. Alpha-Omega, baby. That's who you are. The beginning and the end.
He finally gets my heart unattached without further damage. I retract my arm and rub the sore spot where the pins went through my skin and he holds up my heart for inspection. I lean forward to facilitate him putting it back and he hesitates, cupping it in both hands like it's a bird about to fly away. I think I'm going to hang on to this for a bit, if it's all the same to you.
Then stop giving me mixed messages.
I already told you I fucked up. I was trying to hurt him and I hurt you instead. I just..I want things to be different, Bridge. I want to run the show again. I want it to be you and me against the world. He absently tucks my heart into his shirt pocket as he speaks, a bloom in red growing almost instantly on the front of his shirt. Just trust me and I'll make sure things are better.
I nod.
Do you believe in me, Bridget?
He asked me the same question on our wedding day and it rocked me then as much as it does now. As if I don't trust him to have changed when he said he would, as if I don't put any weight on his regret. As if I can't count on him to do what he says he's going to do, after decades of fighting it out.
I do.