I shake my head. “That’s not it. I mean, I sell some. I give away some. It’s more…” I look up at the low ceiling pushing down on me. I always told Gran that when I didn’t have to take care of the kids I’d start taking care of myself, chasing my own dreams, but until then, my dreams had to be put on hold. To which she responded “Can’t never could do nothing.”
“What? What is it?”
I step closer to Gavin, and when I do he pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. “When I was sixteen, my dad died of a heart attack in his sleep. He was there one day and then the next he was gone.”
Gavin’s arms tighten around me, like he’s holding me up or if he’d been there he would’ve held me together. He brushes his mouth over my hair, and my chest squeezes tight. It’s a kiss, and we said we wouldn’t kiss, but it’s also not a kiss, it’s just Gavin letting me know he’s here.
I fit myself against him and continue, “My dad was my best friend. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, she never graduated high school, so to earn money she started waitressing at the bar.”
“The one you take shifts at?”
I nod. “Yeah. She was never around after my dad died. Things were rough. I got lonely. I got angry. I got…I got in trouble. I vandalized cars. I smashed headlights. I broke the windows of the school gymnasium. Every time I did something I figured I wouldn’t get caught and I prayed that I would. I was so angry.”
Gavin strokes my arms, his fingers gently rubbing me. I can feel his warm breaths falling across my cheek and tickling my hair.
I set my head against his shoulder. “One night my mom and I got in a fight. Lots of yelling, lots of blaming, broken dishes, broken everything. I ran off to town, took a stick, and smashed all the windows of Mr. Garza’s studio. He was new on the mountain then. He’d come from Charlotte and set up shop, put stained glass windows in and displayed all his art. I smashed those windows. Every single one. I remember how good it felt to destroy something so beautiful. I had so much rage that it felt like all that beauty was mocking me. Because how could something so fragile be beautiful? It deserved to be destroyed.” I shake my head and Gavin presses another kiss to my temple.
“What happened?”
“Daryl the sheriff came. My mom. Mr. Garza. It was clear that repaying Mr. Garza and any court action was enough to land me in trouble for years. My mom too. She’d lose the house if she tried to help me out of the mess I’d made. But Mr. Garza, he just frowned at the busted glass and said, ‘Any creature can destroy and tear things down, are you human enough to create?’ I cussed him out and said yes, of course I can create. He demanded I prove it. That very night I cleaned up the mess I made, and the next day he started teaching me glassblowing.”
Gavin gathers me to him, and I breathe in the solid feel of him and the warmth of his chest.
“Did Mr. Garza ever see who you became?”
I bite back a smile. “He died three years ago. He always said if I took my rashness away, my glass would turn out better, but then he said, if I took my rashness away, what made my work unique would also disappear.”
“Hmm. You’re rash? I didn’t know.”
I look at him, tilting my head to meet his considering eyes. “Rashness may be my worst quality. I rush into situations and then regret the tangle I’ve made when I can’t find a way out without breaking everything or everyone. With glass you can always stick the piece back in the crucible, heat it, and smooth it out. In life—”
“We have crucibles too. Isn’t that the definition of crucible? Severe personal trial that forges something new?” He smiles at me. “Huh. I guess I really do like crosswords. So random.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. It’s as sticky as a ball of hot coating gather stuck on the tip of a metal rod.
“I guess I never thought of life that way. Hard times being the heat forming people new. Maybe me rushing into situations is me trying to plunge back into the fire. Smooth my life out. That’s a generous way of looking at it though. Mr. Garza just thought I always let my emotions get the better of me.”
Gavin strokes his hands over my arms and hums a response. “That’s not always a bad thing.” Then, “I was wondering. In your opinion, what’s my worst quality? You know me well. What do you think?”
I frown. Before I would’ve said he was selfish, arrogant, unkind. His fiancée didn’t seem to care for him either. She thought he was irresponsible and didn’t have the ability to love anyone but himself. I can’t see that though. I don’t see any of those things in him.
“I think…” I frown as I consider. “I think your worst quality is that you love too freely. In my experience, people who love too freely get hurt and turn bitter. And when they’re hurt they say horrible things and take their pain out on other people.”
“I see.” His hands still and he lets out a long breath. “You know, I’ve been going back and forth between whether or not I want to remember my past. I’ve finally decided, even if my past is full of things I regret doing or saying, I wish I could remember it, because I’d really, really like to relive the first time we made love.”
My breath catches, and the room suddenly feels as if I’ve opened a furnace door and am being blasted with two thousand degrees of heat. Gavin’s hands lick over me like flame and everywhere he touches, sparks ignite.
“Jamie?”
I shake my head no.
I can’t.
Not because Gran and Diedre said he’s after the honey pot and his just desserts don’t include a dance in the sheets, but because I know someday, maybe someday soon, if Gavin and I have sex, he’s going to hate me. Well, he might hate me anyway, but he’ll especially hate me if we have sex.
His hands stroke down my arms, and then he gathers me close. He’s hard. At the feel of him against me, there’s a throb so sudden and so strong that I nearly lose my breath.
“I wish I could remember. It twists me up thinking about it. I keep imagining how it was. But I know I’m not getting it right.” His eyes are a darker shade of blue and they shine, like the light of the fire glowing through a piece of blue cut glass.