She kisses my lips, breathing on me, breathing me in. "Nothing. It's not you. You didn't do anything, and it's nothing you can fix—it's nothing to be fixed. Nothing is wrong."
"Then make sense, dammit."
"I need time alone, to process," She blurts. "I just don't know how to say it. How to ask, without you thinking I need time away from you. It's not you, it's…everyone, everything. I just…I need a few days by myself to just…process. Meeting you, everything that happened, shooting Jarrod, why I can't say the words."
I laugh, unable to stop myself. “That's it? That's what’s got you buggin’ so bad?"
She frowns at me. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because that's…it's fuckin' nothing. I'm a loner, too, babe. I've been alone my whole life, too. Yeah, I've got my brothers—Silas especially. I know, if I need them, they're there. They'll take on the world, for me. Kill for me. Die for me. But…it doesn't touch the loneliness."
She nods. "You get it."
"God, do I get it, honey. When you grew up alone, ignored, unseen—or if you are seen, it's not a good thing…" I dig deep, giving her vulnerability so raw it's terrifying. "You develop this shell of isolation. It's a loneliness that no one and nothing can touch."
“Exactly," She whispers. "But now there's you."
"You got inside somehow, “I tell her. "Like, I saw you, and you got inside the wall before it had time to go up. You were just…there, on the inside. You see me. You just…see me." I rest my forehead against hers. "And I see you. So, if you need time alone, then go. Do it. Go get a flight to wherever Em and Tom are, or just…whatever. Get a suite at the Bellagio and get room service and watch TV and do nothing. You need that time to process? Go. Take a day or a week or a month—I'll be here, waiting for you." I hold her eyes. "I love you. And please hear me: I don't want any more bullshit from you about forcing yourself to say it. I don't need the words, Terra. I don't."
"But I want to give them to you, though," she whispers. "And…I think—I hope…time to process everything will help me figure it out. So I can say it."
"Then take all the time you need."
"I just don't want you to think—"
I kiss her to shut her up. "Enough. I'm not threatened by you needing time to process. A lot of shit went down all at once. It's cool. I'm good. I'm not worried. I'm not mad. I'll miss you, but as long as you're coming back, I'm good."
"I'll come back." She rests her cheek on my chest.
When I wake up, she's gone. She left a note:
* * *
Meeting Em and Tom here in Vegas tomorrow. Doing what you said: getting a room at the Bellagio. Give me three days, and then come find me.
Got your back,
xoxoxo,
Me
