“How did I lie?”
“You lied when you said true love never dies.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“Tell that to Mom. She’s dying every day without you.”
Dad shook his head sadly. “She’s not dying. She’s waiting.”
“Waiting to die.”
“Perhaps. Or waiting for another to make her live. Or waiting for you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I don’t need love to be happy.”
He scoffed, throwing me a beer that magically appeared in his hand. Icy cold, dew decorated, and straight from the hands of a ghost. “You’re saying you’re happy?”
“I’m saying I have everything I need.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
My eyes narrowed as I twisted the lid off the beer and swigged the cold liquid. “I’m keeping your promise. I’m watching over her. I’m keeping her safe. I promised I would never leave her, and I won’t. What more do you want?”
Dad drank from his own beer, his throat working as he swallowed. “I was wrong to ask such a thing of you. Consider this an ending of that promise. You’re free to do whatever you need.”
“I don’t need anything.” I glowered, getting angry with the one person I never should.
“Wrong.” He grinned with annoying fatherly wisdom. “You need her. The girl who’s fighting for you.”
Hope.
My fingers clenched around the beer bottle. “I need nothing.”
“If that were true, your subconscious wouldn’t be trying to convince you otherwise.”
“You’re saying I’m choreographing this dream?”
He laughed. “If that isn’t the case, then are you willing to concede I might be talking to you from the grave, and I was right all along?” He leaned toward me, smelling of wood-smoke and childhood and loss. “That even gone, I’m still here. That there is no end.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“That’s a start.” He stood, and the fire swirled into dust, drenching us in darkness. “Give in, Wild One. Just give a little and see where your heart guides you. Perhaps that compass was meant to lead you to Hope all along. Now wake up. Wake up and—”
I soared upright.
Sweat drenched my back. My lungs couldn’t catch a proper breath. My heart pumped manic blood through terrified veins.
Shit, that felt so real.
So strange and crazy and real.
And the strangest part was, I knew what Dad was about to say before I woke. His voice rang in my ears as if he spoke in the quiet stillness of my room.
“Wake up and apologise. Wake up and be brave. Wake up and accept life in all its gifts and glories, all its sadness and suffering.”
If I had scripted that entire illusion, then I was seeking absolution from my promise—searching for a way to be free of looking after my mother—which made me an awful, terrible son.
But then again, I’d descended into an awful, terrible person.
I led Hope on by growling at Carter, refusing to let her find joy with anyone else, and trying my hardest to make her as miserable as me.
I couldn’t handle the feelings she invoked in me.
I couldn’t handle the dominating desire when she spoke to other guys or the gut-sinking realisation that I wanted to be the one to take her to the waterfall.
Why the hell was I so screwed up?
Why couldn’t I get past this?
Why couldn’t I just do what Dad said and let my heart guide me instead of my mind ruling me all the goddamn time?
Dad was right. My dream was right. I was right.
This was no way to live.
I couldn’t keep doing this anymore.
But I didn’t know how to break free.
Round and round my thoughts went, fighting a heart that was brave and cursing a soul that was pitifully fearful.
I wasn’t ten anymore.
I’d survived death. I had a family who loved me. I had a girl who put up with my bullshit even though I went out of my way to be cruel.
I didn’t deserve them.
I’d never deserved them.
And this wasn’t the man I was meant to become.
I was supposed to be better than this.
I wanted to be better than this.
I just didn’t know how.
How did I stop fighting life?
How did I stop battling everything that made me human?
The answer?
Give in.
The simplest notion.
The hardest thing.
Give in.
Accept.
Trust.
And…apologise.
* * * * *
I left them letters.
I used a tip from my old man and penned letters to my loved ones.
One to Aunt Cassie, Uncle Chip, and Cousin Nina.
One to Grandpa John.
One to Mom.
I hadn’t figured out how to be the son Dad expected me to be, but my dream had slapped me awake enough to see the error of my ways. So what if I struggled? I shouldn’t take it out on those who cared for me.
I wasn’t strong enough to say it face to face. Words stuck in my throat at the very thought of admitting I loved them. Just the image of such a thing made me want to run into the forest and never come back.