A Wager Of The Heart

84. Defining moments and hesitation

:::Kent:::

I looked around the darkening space, the fire blazed with heat but brought little light to the area. Bastion's study was cozy in the sense that I could tell it had a woman's touch in the decorating. The desk that was the only large piece of furniture was made of a light colored wood with gentle slopes carrying it to the floor, the few chairs were petite and pretty with rose pink cushions to match the carpet. I cleared my throat in the empty room and shifted uncomfortably.

Charity had been home for more than a month and a half and we've been playing a cat and mouse game since. She kept me at a safe distance, always careful to maintain a friendly but not intimate feeling between us. It was maddening. However, I conceded, she didn't demand I leave no matter how often I came or how long I stayed. I would never have even come if it hadn't been for the jacket. I shook my head trying to rattle the memory of finding the discarded garment in her room but the tight feeling wrapped cold fingers around my heart and squeezed the breath out of me as that morning came to life in my head.

I couldn't say goodbye, not so literally, therefore I avoided leaving my room until I was certain she was gone. My will had been tested to the point of breaking the night before, every time she met my gaze or a single tear streaked down her moonlit face, I fought myself. I wanted her to such a degree that it felt like my body and soul were tearing apart, that without her in my life I would never be whole. But the pain in her eyes, and the knowledge in my heart that I caused it, kept my desires at bay. There was a part of me that hoped, even after laying her sleeping form in her bed, that we could somehow recover what my thoughtless actions had stolen from us. The miniscule hope surged to life with such ferocity I nearly lost my footing in the wake of its strength when I saw her delicate hands unconsciously wrap around a dark lump of fabric. 

I knew what that was and now how she'd made a treasure of the simple thing I'd given her. Pain tore at the open wounds of my heart when she snuggled closer to the jacket in her sleep. I saw now the evidence of her struggle when she left me. I knew how much she loved her sister but for the first time I was seeing how much she must have loved me. The anguish became so acute I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep the soul wrenching sob that tore from the deepest part of my being silent. She slept with a part of me close to her heart every night while I raged and screamed my selfish pain to the heavens, and now that she was back I had heedlessly squandered any promise of a future with my angel. 

I did not deserve her but no matter how often I repeated this mantra in my head as I paced sleeplessly in my room for the remainder of the night, I couldn't snuff out the resilient flame of hope within me. We need not pick up right where we left off, but as long as she let me remain in her life I would prove myself worthy of her faith and her love. The jacket would be the symbol of my dream, one day I would become the man she saw in the garden that night. 

My feet were like lead as they carried me through the empty halls the following morning. I wanted to keep some part of her alive in this house, even if it were only her memory so I made my way to her room. I stopped at the threshold, her intoxicating scent was everywhere, it brought with it both the greatest joy and the deepest sorrow and I remained still until my nose became desensitized. My eyes roamed the room, memorizing it as it was before it was cleaned and changed forever. 

My gaze fell on the dark bundle so cruelly discarded near the pillow of the bed. It took me what felt like an eternity to convince myself to go to the bed and confirm my worst fears, longer still for my body to obey. It felt like someone else was reaching out and picking up the jacket, the physical embodiment of my wish. The pressure in my chest grew and I was not certain if all the air had been stolen from the world of I had simply forgotten how to breathe. I clutched the fabric with white knuckles until my strength gave out and I fell heavily onto the edge of the bed.