The Survivors: Body & Blood (book 3)

Say Goodbye

I CLEANED MYSELF UP, PACKED MY FEW UN-BURNED POSSESSIONS, and went to Cole's room.

When he opened the door, he looked worse than he did the day before. I imagined I was seeing a mirror image of what I would look like if I were human. If I were living this life while human.

For a moment, I imagined Cole as a Survivor or some other supernatural. As something stronger. Maybe then he could be there for me. Maybe then . . .

I dismissed the thought as soon as it had come.

"Morning, darlin'," he said softly, letting me in.

"Morning," I said. "How are you feeling?"

He lay back on the unmade bed, his hands over his eyes. "Like everything I believed in was a lie."

I sat next to him and didn't say a word.

"I thought if I tried hard enough, if I loved someone enough, and I committed to her enough, then I could be what she needed." I looked down at him. He moved his hands and met my eye. "I thought I could be what you needed."

"Now you know I'm beyond help."

"That's not it. A human can't compete in supernatural circumstances. I don't know how I could ever take care of you, how I'd ever be what you need. I love you, and I'm failing you," he said. He had been so solid and so perfect, and now he was broken because of me.

"Why do you love me?"

"Is that a serious question?" he asked.

I paused, unsure of how to say this. I was suffocated by fear. Pulled under by doubt. "Yes," I finally said. "Wait, wait. I don't mean that. I mean how. How can you love me? You didn't even know who I really was until a few weeks ago, and now that you do . . ."

"Now that I know everything, I just love you more. I don't know how I love you. I just know I always have. But maybe I see what you see now. No matter how I feel, or how you feel or don't feel, this won't go away."

My throat closed. I had the sinking feeling that if Cole could see that, with his sparkly optimism, then it must be true.

He sat up and put his hand behind my neck and pulled my forehead to his. "I'm just so afraid that you will never be free."

Then he pulled me closer, tighter, my body pressed to his. His face was warm and soft and rough with scruff and as his warm breath left his body, I inhaled. For a moment, I was lost in him.

But so quickly, I felt the debate within him. Would this be what he hoped? If he kissed me now, pulled me to him and put his hand in my hair and let himself go, how would he feel moments later when he realized that it was not actually our reality? That we would be perpetually pulled apart, coming so close but never getting what he wanted. What I wanted. What anyone wanted.

Nothing about it was the way I imagined it. It wasn't romantic or happy, wasn't sweet or even sensual. It was just fearful, and he was fragmented, and I couldn't put him back together. I was painfully aware that this moment, should it progress, would only be a terrible aftershock to an already devastating quake. I pulled away and got to my feet.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to . . ."

"I know. I didn't either," I said, unable to look at him. It was so clear then. Every move I made had been wrong. And every wrong was worse than the previous one. "I'm sorry you can't save me, but I'm even more sorry I can't save you."

I went to the door. "Cole, I need to go now, and so do you. Mark is taking you to the airport." He didn't move. "Cole . . .Come give me a hug or . . . something."

"Why?" he asked, looking up at me. The dark circles under his eyes seemed to deepen. "I know what you want. I can see it on your face. But I won't do it."

I read it in his mind. He did know what I wanted.

"Cole . . ."

"No, Sadie. I can't give up yet. I know you want me to, but it's not time. I won't say goodbye."