Jonah sighed. “Yeah.”
Ruby nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“Lucas told me the same thing you did. That you’d been buried alive. That you were forced to absorb the phlogiston. And even when you woke up, you didn’t hurt anyone. He said human phlogiston made you sick.” Jonah rubbed the back of his neck, his expression guilty. “Which, of course, made me feel like a real asshole, considering how we… reunited.”
“You mean how you poisoned me?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, her tone flat.
Jonah’s face flushed. “Yeah, not my best moment.” He exhaled slowly, rubbing his hands together and searching for the right words. “There was some kind of... disconnect, after Igot the call about my sister. In my mind, there was Ruby—the woman I cared about, my friend. And then there was Ruby, the thermophile who’d supposedly killed hundreds. I didn’t know you were forced. Lucas made it sound like you did it yourself.” He clenched his jaw. “I kept imagining my sister, terrified, and in my nightmares, it was you behind her.”
Ruby’s stomach twisted. “Please, don’t finish that thought.”
He nodded quickly. “I won’t. But when I saw you again, I didn’t see a killer. I saw you—Ruby, my good friend. And I tried to convince myself that I was being weak, that you were manipulating me somehow. So I tested you. And that was shitty. I’m sorry, Rubes. I really am.”
She nodded. Jonah shifted, the leaves rustling quietly around them. The air was cooler now, the shadows from the nearby trees stretching long and thin across the graveyard. A few birds called out in the distance, their songs oddly forlorn. Ruby let out a soft breath, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the grass beside her as she mulled over their conversation.
The silence stretched to the point of being awkward.
"He was nice to me," she blurted.
Jonah blinked, frowning as though he couldn’t grasp where the conversation had gone. "Your husband?"
Ruby’s attention shifted to the grave before her, her fingers stopping their movements on the ground. The name etched into the stone seemed to shimmer under the fading light. She inhaled deeply, allowing her lungs to inflate, steadying her.
"That's all I wanted as a kid, someone who was nice to me," she said, almost to herself. "I know it’s popular to want passion and adventure and witty batter that would never happen in real life. The enemies-to-lovers trope. I read plenty of romance novels at the TCA when I needed an escape. But I hated them." Her fingers clenched in the grass. "Especially when themisunderstanding gets cleared up, and he still treats her like crap. Like tension or chaos were somehow romantic."
Jonah stayed silent, attentive, the words lingering between them.
"I didn’t want that,” she admitted, “I didn’t want the tension, the anger, the constant feeling that things might fall apart any moment. I wanted... kindness." She looked up at the dimming sky, searching the clouds for unknown shapes. "I wanted to be cherished."
Jonah's face softened, but he didn’t say anything. Ruby squirmed under his attention.
She broke the silence again, her voice flat as she continued, "His family barely tolerated me, though. I don’t think they ever really liked me. I was too opinionated, too loud for them." She let out a small, bitter laugh. "But I 'made him a better man,' apparently. As if that’s all I was supposed to be—some kind of prop to hold up their perfect son. Still, I don’t think we would’ve gotten married under normal circumstances. I toned myself down. I made myself quiet, smiled when I needed to. Pretended everything was perfect. And it worked, for a while."
"What happened?"
"He wouldn’t tell me he loved me," Ruby said, shaking her head as a bitter chuckle escaped her lips. "It was stupid, really. All I wanted was for him to say it. Just once. I wanted to hear the words 'I love you,' even if it was a lie."
Jonah stared at her, the quiet intensity making her uncomfortable. He could feel how deeply the words weighed on her. He shifted, his voice tentative. "And he never...?"
"No. Not while I was human, at least. But he spent the rest of his life looking for us. That’s gotta count for something, right?"
“Us?” Jonah repeated, the confusion evident in his voice. He glanced at the gravestone again, reading the name etched intothe stone: Brad Gilberts, 1941-2021. He read it once, twice, then frowned.
"Then who—"
“I loved my husband, sure. But I could have a dozen great romantic loves in my life, and none of them would ever compare.”
Jonah recoiled slightly, her words catching him off guard. An inkling of understanding dawned in his eyes. Dread seemed to settle over him like a heavy fog, his shoulders slumping as he forced himself to ask the question that now loomed like a dark cloud between them.
"Compare to what?" he croaked.
Ruby wrapped her arms around her torso and forced herself to meet his eyes. "To the love of a mother.”
RUBY SHIFTED, FOLDINGher legs beneath her. The sun was practically gone, replaced by a purple twilight, with the first stars popping in the sky. It was a betrayal—how something so beautiful could exist while she sat there, cracked open and bleeding with memories of her little girl.
Jonah sat beside her, their knees brushing, his warmth grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. He didn’t speak right away, just blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she murmured, “There’s nothing you really can say.”
