to put it into words. I knew it by the heat in my heart, by the pull in my chest. By the way that my center of gravity wasn’t even a part of my body anymore but was located inside of him.
My life had been barren as a winter shore, as cold as a wind that whipped down from the north, promising snow. Gus had brought me back to life. He’d filled me with light and laughter again.
I couldn’t deny it. But I also knew, just as surely as I knew the love that beat within my heart, that I didn’t deserve him. That I couldn’t keep him. That one day, this would have to end.
“Come here,” I said, instead of answering his question. “Let’s dry off.”
I offered Gus a towel and busied myself with getting dry as I thought of what to say. I didn’t even realize he’d left the bathroom until I turned around and saw that I was alone. When I stepped out into the bedroom, he was sitting on the edge of my bed, towel bunching around his hips.
His head was in his hands.
“Hey,” I said, tucking my towel around my waist and sitting on the bed next to him. “You doing okay?”
Gus looked up, his cheeks pink, his lips trembling. “Yes? No? I don’t know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I wasn’t sure what help I could offer, but I was desperate to try.
He shrugged helplessly. “Yes. And no. Because I’m pretty sure it’s gonna make you uncomfortable, and I don’t want to do that.”
“I’d really like to hear whatever you have to say. I promise.”
The noise that came from Gus’s throat was half laugh, half sob, and maybe a sprinkling of hiccup as well. “Since when?”
His smile was self-deprecating, but it was a smile, at least.
“Since I realized that I’ve gotten used to hearing you talk,” I told him honestly. “Since I realized that I actually like it.”
I smiled as I said it, but it just seemed to make his face crumple even more. He wiped at his eyes.
“Please? Just tell me.”
“It’s stupid,” Gus said, looking down at his knees. “I was just thinking earlier tonight about how I wanted to stay here. I was daydreaming about what would happen if I never remembered who I was, and if I just stayed here forever and made a new life. But my past is always going to catch up to me. I can’t hide from it forever.”
“I’ll keep you safe.” I brought my fingertips under his chin and tilted his face up to look at me. “I swear.”
“But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s not like you actually want me to stay,” he said. “You’re attracted to me, sure. But nothing more. You don’t—you don’t feel—”
“I want you to stay.”
The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. But I meant them. Gus’s eyes went wide, and I dropped my fingertips so I could take his hand instead.
“I don’t deserve you, Gus. I don’t deserve anyone, and especially not someone as perfect as you. I could never ask you to stay, but you have to know I want that.”
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why can’t you? If you want to, and I want to, then what’s the problem?”
“I fucking killed someone, that’s the problem. I don’t just get to have a happy ending after that.”
“You didn’t kill anyone.”
“As good as.”
“No. Not as good as. That’s bullshit,” Gus said. I didn’t even know it was possible to go from sad to angry so quickly, but Gus had managed it. “I don’t know who told you that—”
“No one had to tell me, I just know.”
“But it’s complete, fucking bullshit.” He glared at me. “You feel guilty. I get it—”
“You don’t get it, though, because you’ve never actually done something that bad. And I hope you never do get it, because it sucks.” I tugged at his hand. “Don’t you see? How wrong it would be for me to get to be happy now? With you?”
I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the tears I could feel pressing against them.
“We’re weeks away from the anniversary of her death. Every day for the past seven years, her mom has woken up to a world without her daughter in it. Do you think her mom’s happy? Do you think all the people who loved her are just moving on, living carefree lives? They miss her, every day, and it’s because—it’s because I—”