And that is why she is broken.
It is why I am broken.
29
Ava
He kissesover my back and nuzzles his face against my shoulder. “I will never let you be hurt like that again.”
“I know.”
And I do know that. As long as he is with me, I will always be safe. He lies back, bringing me down with him. His large arm wraps around me and all that fear dissipates like it never even existed. I breathe him in and trail my finger over the ridges of his stomach. “Do you believe in fate?” I ask.
His chest rises on a deep inhale. “Sometimes.”
“Fate isn’t a sometimes thing, Max.”
“I have to believe it is.” He laughs. “Because I refuse to believe some things were meant to be.”
I debate on what I am about to say, nearly talking myself out of it from the fear of how crazy I will sound. But some things, no matter how foolish they may sound, will drive you insane if youdon’tsay them. “I believe meeting you was fate.”
I feel his grip on my body twitch. “Don’t say that,” he says with an edge to his voice, and for some reason, it breaks my heart a little.
“Max…”
“Nothing about you meeting me was fate, Ava. It was wrong.” He inhales and his hand sweeps up my back, my neck, into my hair. “Maybemymeetingyou,” he whispers before he kisses my forehead, “but notyoumeetingme.”
My chest tightens and I bite my lip. I fight it, but at this point I no longer care. I wanted him to agree. Smile. Kiss me. Hold me close. But he acts like the idea of us is a tragedy. “This was fate, no matter how horrible this chance encounter was—itwasfate.”
The constant stroke of his hand through my hair stopped seconds ago, his body going tense. The compassionate man that was holding me, telling me the flawed pieces of me are beautiful, he’s gone, hidden behind a wall he’s quickly putting together. Brick by brick. Because we’ve gone too far, we’ve let things feel too real, and when you feel things—you’re bound to get hurt.
“You don’t even know me, Ava,” he says, a bite to his voice. “Not one thing. Not even my last name.” And that truth stings, but only for a moment.
“I know I love you and that is all I have to know, because no matter what your name is, no matter anything else…I loveyou.”
He shifts in the bed, his hands gripping my cheeks as he drags my face to his. His lips press over mine in a hard kiss, his tongue dipping into my mouth. I melt. I swoon. I want this. God, do I want this no matter how fucked up it is because love—well, love knows no boundaries. Love doesn’t care how it came to fruition, it only cares that it exists, and this—Max—he is love.
Things which are perfect don’t need to be mended. There is no room in something without flaw for anything to fit within it, no need for another brushstroke, another rewrite. Perfection wants not…but damaged people, we want for so much, for things only people like us can understand. And we are both ruined—in different ways—but once something is broken, does it really matter how it was destroyed?
And just like that, he rips himself away from me. A low groan rumbles from his chest and his eyes are locked with mine. I can see his mind working, see him warring with himself over how wrong this is. Another groan and his gaze falls to the bed, his hand rubbing over his face.
“Max,” I whisper. “Thisisfate.” And I feel so desperate to make him understand that because Ibelieveit, and I fear he onlyknowsit. Just like someone may know there is a God, but they don’t believe it so they wander aimlessly, hopelessly passing through life looking for something they feel they must prove to believe… Max cannot pass through my life. He has to believe this. I didn’t go through hell to lose my saving grace, even if everyone else will only ever see his horns and not his wings.
“Iloveyou.” Leaning in, I lift his face to kiss his lips and he gently kisses me back. His hand cups my jaw before wandering into my hair and gripping the back of my head. And in this kiss, I know everything I need to know. They say actions speak louder than words, and my God is that true because this kiss is everything love should be: tender and passionate and desperate and fearful.
If we were ever caught Max would go to jail, because I don’t know that I could ever argue his case. But love…that is never wrong, so what do we do? What do you do when the person you were made to love is given to you under all the wrong pretenses?
You lie next to them and enjoy every single moment you have because nothing is certain. Not one damn thing.
30
Max
It only takesa few calls and one day to obtain fake IDs for the both of us. I set the documents to the side and continue packing our luggage. I haven’t decided where will go, but it needs to be far away from here, that’s for fucking sure.
Ava walks out from the bathroom, her hair still wet from the shower. She stops in front of the mirror and runs her fingers through her now chin-length, auburn hair. “I can’t get used to this,” she says, staring at her reflection. “It doesn’t look like me.”
“It’s not supposed to.” I laugh as I walk up behind her, grabbing onto her shoulders before I lean down to kiss her pale cheek. “But you’d be beautiful no matter what color hair you had.” I flick her hair before walking back to the bed and sifting through the fake documents. When I open the passport, I read over the alias she chose: Guinevere Stephens.
