Warmth in Ice
Page 11

Clay became quiet again and we sat there, listening to each other breathe.
“Do you think we can do this?” he asked finally and the knot gripped tightly again.
“What do you mean?” I asked sounding sort of panicky.
“I just think we were incredibly naïve to believe that we could handle being this far away from each other. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.” I hated the stark sadness in Clay’s voice.
How often would he doubt what we had together? How many times would I have to convince him that together we could handle anything?
That together, we would make it.
“I refuse to have this conversation with you again, Clay,” I said in frustration.
I could almost picture Clay putting his hands through his hair in his characteristic agitated gesture. His fingers curling into fists as he fought against the urges screaming in his head. The thought of him struggling in any way made me want to back off and play nice.
The instinctual fear that resided in my heart clawed its way to the surface. Our history dictated my response. Clay had never handled dissention between us very well. It was ingrained in me to retreat, to placate, and to surrender.
But if we were ever going to move away from our past, I had to check those instincts and give us both a hefty dose of tough love. And that meant calling my boyfriend on his shit.
“I’m serious, Maggie, this is eating me alive!” his voice rose and I winced at the desperation I heard.
“Fucking hell, Clayton! Yes, this sucks, but it’s not forever. And I swear to God if you try this whole I’m letting you go because I love you too much line of crap again, I will smack the crap out of you!” I threatened.
Finally Clay laughed but it was a sad sound. “I learned the hard way that letting you go isn’t possible,” he said softly.
I ran my fingers over the ink on the inside of my wrist. The rune Uruz, black against my skin, seemed to remind me that healing took time but that it was possible. It was necessary. And I couldn’t give up on the boy who had come so far.
“This isn’t going to be easy, Clay, but you have to trust me. You have to trust us. Because I would rather be there, beside you, than anywhere else. We made promises to each other and we have to remember that at the end of all this, there will only be you and me.”
I felt the truth of those words in the pit of my soul. Because Clay wasn’t just my first love. He was my forever love. And I would fight for that forever until I was bloodied and broken. And then, only he could put me back together.
We didn’t function in half ways and maybes. We were always. We were constant.
We were endless.
And one day we wouldn’t be struggling for every heartbeat. We wouldn’t be walking uphill against the weight of his illness and our combined insecurities.
I wasn’t delusional. I knew that a lifetime with him would be to face a barely restrained uncertainty. But I was convinced that eventually, we’d be able to relax and finally just…be.
And it was that that kept my dreams peaceful and my sleep undisturbed. Because there was no other option for the boy and the girl who had walked through fire and now waited for the smoke to disappear.
“I know, baby,” he said and then chuckled. “Look at you, two months in school and you’re already a f**king genius.”
I snorted. “Sweetheart, I’ve always been a genius. I chose you didn’t I?”
“That you did. I’m one lucky ass**le.”
“But you’re my ass**le.”
Clay laughed again and we were finally right again.
I was glad to be back at school. I loved my parents but they could be more than a little smothering. And now that Clay and I were good again, I felt like I was able to relax.
“How was your break?” Ashley asked as soon as I entered the dorm room. I noticed that the Justin Bieber posters had been taken down. The Biebs had been replaced with Harry Styles. Sheesh, her taste in music just kept getting better and better.
“Fine. How about you?” I asked. No sense in sharing that I spent most of my time moping and eating my weight in mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“It was great! You have to see the new clothes I bought!” she squealed, going to her closet and pulling out shirts and skirts and dresses, throwing them on my bed.
“Wow, Ashley. It’s all so…bright,” I said looking at her new neon wardrobe.
“You can borrow whatever you want!” she said, grabbing a tangerine colored dress and pressing it against my front. “This would look fabulous on you with all that dark hair.”
I instantly backed away. “I won’t play dress up, Ashley. I’ll stick with my own clothes, thanks,” I warned.
Ashley pouted and I knew she was gearing up for an argument when there was a knock at the door.
Josh and Brent came into the room, grins on their faces. “Girls! Finally! We’ve missed you!” Josh said in a loud, booming voice, throwing an arm around Ashley’s shoulders. Josh was your stereotypical skater boy with shaggy blonde hair, shorts that were sagging off his hips and battered Vans on his feet. His crush on my roommate was painfully obvious and unfortunately for him, Ashley wasn’t interested. But it didn’t stop the poor boy from trying.
Brent sat down at my desk and swiveled in the chair, taking in the huge pile of clothes on my bed. Brent was shorter than me but built like the Incredible Hulk. He worked out religiously and it showed. His brown hair was shorn close to his skull and his smile was marred by a scar on his upper lip that he had told me came from a nasty bike riding accident when he was a kid.