the sanitarium. It can’t contain me.”
She gave her painting a final swipe, then rose to her feet. We stood, side by side, over it.
“Have you ever been to New York City?” she asked.
“No.”
“Me neither. I always wanted to, ever since I was a kid. I want to see the lights of Times Square. I want to go to the top of the Empire State Building and see how the world looks from up there. I want to walk in Central Park and eat a hot dog from a street vendor. I want all that and I don’t want to wait.”
“Thea…”
She turned to face me. “I wanted this before the accident. That’s always been my vision of life. But I was put on pause for two years and the vision kept growing. Outgrowing me. The life I’d had while I was away has been building up, and I’m going to burst if I don’t live it.”
“I want it for you, too.”
“You do?”
“But I think you should wait a little longer and see—”
“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked softly. “Waiting to go back to school to be a speech therapist? Until when? Do you know what happens while you wait? Nothing. And then next thing you know, years have gone by. I can’t do nothing anymore. I can’t.”
I lifted my chin. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not going to stay here. I’ll walk out the front door and hitchhike to New York if I have to.”
I thought of her, young and beautiful, walking along the road in her short-shorts with her thumb out for any asshole to pick up. A Brett-type who seemed friendly as hell on the surface, but underneath…
“What’s that look for?” she asked, the backs of her hands on her hips.
“I don’t like the thought of you hitchhiking.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“And what will you do about it? Tell my sister?”
“Maybe.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Liar.”
We stared each other down, emotions broiling in both of us. Her cheeks were flushed, and my hands itched to grab her and kiss that brassy mouth of hers. Both of us daring the other to say what was behind our heated words.
I care about you.
Prove it.
I blinked first. “Fine,” I said. “I wouldn’t tell her. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Thea’s arms dropped and her voice softened.
“And I don’t want to waste away in a box. Blue Ridge is bigger than the little prison I was trapped in for two years, but it’s still a prison.” She stepped closer to me. “An invisible clock is hanging over my head and the minutes keep ticking away. I lost two years. Now every second I’m not out there, doing what makes me happy, is just more time lost.”
She moved closer. I could feel the warmth of her skin and the scent of her perfume—something flowery and light—mixed with the harsher scent of acrylic yellow paint all over her hands.
“I want to live, Jimmy. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said, my own autopilot existence feeling like a prison too; one I’d made for myself.
“Really live,” Thea said. “Not just exist.”
I nodded.
“You should have it, Jimmy.” She tilted her head up. “Go out in the world and…” Her hand came up between us, on my chest, over my heart. “…take what you want.”
Her breath caught as my arm slipped around her waist, pressing her to me. Taking her to me. My head bent down to hers, drawn by an invisible force I couldn’t stop. The tiniest smile tugged at her lips until they parted, ready for my kiss. My eyes drank in every detail of her exquisite face, while my other hand slid into her hair that was softer than it’d been in my fevered imaginings. I made a fist, pulling gently, eliciting a little gasp from her. Her lips parted wider, inviting me in.
I never wanted anything in my life like I wanted Thea…
“Yes, Jimmy,” she whispered.
Take what I want…
Inhale. Like a diver ready to submerge into her depths. Exhale.
Our lips touched.
“What the hell is going on?”
The air shattered at the intrusion. Our bodies jerked apart, my heart thumping.
“Jesus, Delia,” Thea said breathlessly. “None of your business, is what’s going on.” Her eyes were still locked on mine. “Jimmy, don’t,” she said, when I started to pull away.
But I let her go, my hands instantly feeling empty and cold without her skin and hair and vibrant life pulsing beneath them.
Not here, I wanted to tell her. I don’t want this here.
“It’s n-n-not… professional,”