Page 3 of Generation Omega: Revealed
“You’re hungry,” he announces with some regret.
“I am… for you.”
“But…”
I rest my hands on his chest. “Please, don’t make me wait another second for us to be real in a way I can believe. I don’t want to rush you… I mean, yes, I totally want to rush you but only if this is right for you. Please, let yourself have this, have me,bewith me.Please, don’t talk yourself out of this. Talk to me. Trust me. I won’t letyoufall.”
Maybe I do know what he thinks and feels because I see the truth in his tortured expression. How many thousands of times did he talk himself out of believing he could let himself have something good? How many times did he doubt he was worthy of a love like ours?
“Just love me, Ethan. We’ll figure out everything else when we need to. We don’t need all the answers. Just one. Do you love me?”
I stare up at Ethan, awaiting the verdict only he can give. Is love a crime? Because I feel like a criminal about to be given a life sentence—possibly the electric chair—by the person I love most. My heart clenches in a fist of uncertainty. I see two possible futures, one that’s everything I’ve always dreamed and the other a gaping void of all I never allowed myself to imagine—exactly what my life would be without Ethan.
That’s the situation we’re in, here in a room filled with tutu-wearing bears that suddenly seem too much like a jury that’s already decided against me. It’s an odd and unexpected courtroom, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is the place where everything between us will be resolved one way or the other.
I should have expected this reckoning, but I was too dazzled by this miraculous, surprise trip and Ethan’s touch, our first kiss. I finally allowed myself to believe we were ready for each other. But another possibility is now smacking me in the face with a hammer. If he isn’t ready for me, I have to walk away. From him. From the convention and this vacation. Even from our friendship.
I willingly drank the love potion all those years ago, knowing even then that there was no antidote. Since then, I’ve waited for Ethan to be ready, but what’s tragically clear to me is that I can’t wait anymore. Love has a season just like winter or spring, and if it’s denied, it’s lost forever. I reach and pull off my flowered tiara, dropping it on the floor.
I don’t know what it says about me, but I’ll never look at Ethan the same way if he can’t love me now. I’ll never be in his life again. I refuse to be a spectator watching him love someone else because he doesn’t think he’s worthy of me. I can’t do that to myself. I won’t.
My breathing grows ragged and hyperventilation is decidedly possible. But what draws my full attention is my heart. It’s doing that thing again, the obnoxious thing it does. I still remember the first time, but then, I remember every time. Waking in the night, always from nightmares, as something bored into my heart. The raw, gaping spaces left me shuddering, feverish, vulnerable. No matter what I did in my dreams, I couldn’t fill the empty places, and the effects lingered for days, sapping all my energy. I couldn’t soothe myself at all. I could never make myself whole.
I pleaded with my parents when I was eight years old to take me to a doctor and get my heart checked, but they were too busy for their only child’s silly nightmares. It took three years for me to finally convince them. I can still hear their smugness when all the tests came back normal.
See, Tillie, it’s all in your head, just like we said. And we took off work for this. I don’t want to hear another word about your perfectly healthy heart.
It doesn’t feel perfectly healthy. It feels unfinished, like holes dug in a garden awaiting seeds and rich soil, water, sunlight, and attention.
“Tillie…” Ethan’s tone is a concerned grumble. “… please, breathe, and come with me.”
CHAPTER3
TILLIE
My throat is too tight to argue or demand an answer to the question still hanging between us, but even if I could speak, I wouldn’t. I’ve said all I can say and now it’s up to Ethan.
Trust—it’s an extreme sport, as dangerous as any cage match.
I focus my energy on smacking down every tear that attempts to escape my eyes. I won’t cry. I won’t scream. I will listen. And if necessary, I’ll find my way home, though that’s a big lie because my only home is Ethan. Any road I take away from him will only lead to a wasteland where nothing will ever grow.
His hand gives mine a reassuring squeeze as he leads me down a long hallway, pausing in the middle of it. There, he reaches toward the ceiling and I notice the hatch cut into it. He grips a handle and tugs it, the door swinging down, along with an ancient-looking, metal ladder.
I lean and peer up at the creepy darkness of what looks to be a haunted attic. “Ethan…”
“I’m not avoiding your question and I have so much to say.” His brow furrows and his free hand clenches into a fist. “But there’s something my father said that I’ll never forget. People always say that actions speak louder than words, but my father thought that wasn’t the whole story. He believed the intention behind the action mattered most. He told me that he didn’t buy my mother flowers because he wanted out of the doghouse for working late or not wanting to visit my grandparents more than once a decade.”
Ethan braces as the memories of his father batter him. “He brought her flowers every week because he loved her, because thinking of her smelling her favorite rare roses gave him peace and the light in her eyes was the most beautiful thing he ever saw.” He shakes his head, as though he’s failing at some test with no defined rules.
I squeeze his hand, wordlessly encouraging him to continue, as I fight harder against tears at seeing him like this.
“Anyone could get you a ticket to your favorite convention. Anyone could buy you flowers or jewelry, and maybe they would do it for love or because they want you to think they love you. Tillie, I do love you. I want you. I won’t disappoint you again.” He instantly grimaces. “That’s not true. I will disappoint you, but only because I don’t have all the answers.”
His voice lowers and his obvious pain makes me ache. “I thought I could find all the answers and be…rightfor you. But I couldn’t. I’m still messed up and struggling to figure out who I am. There are things about myself that I don’t understand, but what I’m certain of is that we belong together. I can’t keep hurting you by waiting to be perfect before I let myself love you. So, I’m asking you to let me imperfectly love you as perfectly as I can.”
Oh my god. I can’t breathe again, but for an entirely different reason. And, suddenly, our roles reverse. I’m the judge and the vulnerability in Ethan’s eyes as he awaits my verdict propels my tears past all my furious efforts to contain them.
“Of course. Please. Yes.” I throw my arms around him and grip him like we’re both standing on one foot of solid ground while the earth all around us shudders and drops into oblivion.
