Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [68]
I turned toward Brent. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Nah. I’ll give you some privacy. Besides I can always watch the repeat tonight in your thoughts.”
He turned toward the groves with a quiet whistle. As he walked, I felt some sort of sadness in him that I hadn’t noticed before. Part of me felt the need to go to him and comfort him the same way he had for me since I died. A small ache formed in my stomach as I stood watching him, hearing his tune carried toward me on the wind. I hadn’t been this far from him since my death and I missed him. The string that connected us was stretching further than ever and it hurt me; I needed to be closer to him. I took a step down the stairs and at that moment he turned back toward me.
My hazel eyes found his brown ones. Suddenly, even though he was more than thirty feet away, I could feel Brent’s hand lightly caress my cheek. I looked at him from across the distance separating us; he hadn’t moved an inch. He was watching me with his thumbs still casually resting in the pockets of his pants. Only the intense look in his eyes betrayed that he was doing anything besides just standing there.
Could he really touch me from so far away? In awe, I raised my unsteady hand to my face where I could still feel his gentle, lingering touch. Our fingers intertwined for a second, and I smiled at Brent, enjoying the sheer impossibility of the moment. His touch was so tender, so caring that I felt my face flush.
Brent sensed my blush and I detangled our hands in confusion. I looked away, befuddled at the stirring of emotions arising in me. He was still watching me as I cleared my throat and looked up at him again.
He looked different, more content, wearing a calm smile as he whispered, “Go.” Bewildered by the moment, I nodded. He turned away, whistling again, a song that sounded much happier than it had before.
The connection between Brent and me was stretched taut, causing me a twinge of bearable pain. I turned back toward her window and paused, preparing myself. Taking a deep breath I climbed through.
The room was stripped bare of both Cherie’s belongings and mine. I took in the complete emptiness of my former room with an overwhelming feeling of having been blotted out. It was like I had never been there, my time at Pendrell totally erased like the click of a delete button. Without our personal items, the room was as stark and bleak as my mood.
I scooted myself onto my old desk, feeling completely insignificant. The faint scent of Cherie’s perfume still lingered, but all other traces of our time here were gone. My hand brushed the bare wall beside me, and I smiled as I the felt tiny holes where I had tacked up pictures and the sticky remnants of hot glue that I had used to hang up posters, proof that I had once been here.
Brent slinked through the window, leaning on the its edge. “I was worried . . . you felt so sad. I can go,” Brent said, half crawling back out.
“Please don’t.” I crossed my feet, the point of my heel scratching the top of the opposite foot. I patted the small space beside me on my desk. Brent backed in next to me and reached over taking my hand in his. His thumb tickled the inside of my palm and I laid my head on his shoulder. His other arm snaked around me, holding me tightly; I had never felt more protected.
He didn’t make empty promises or cliché remarks like, “It’ll be okay.” He didn’t say anything, and that was what I needed, just someone to be there. I snuggled in closer to him, my head so close that my eyelashes stroked the bare skin on his neck. Brent swallowed hard, dropping his arm from around me and stood up, striding across the room.
The inside of my cheek was feeling raw from my constant chewing.