Damn, I’d date you. I’d date you so hard. No doubt there. Despite what I just said.
I lick my lips, which have suddenly gone very, very dry. His hand slips into mine, as natural as if we’ve done it every day of our lives.
“I keep asking myself something,” he mumbles.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Why are you the Paradox?”
What a strange question. Does he expect me to know the answer? Because if he does, he’s going to be disappointed.
“Uh, because you guys told me I am?”
“Yeah, I know, but what makes you, specifically, the Paradox? What is it about you that you are the chosen one?”
I can’t tell if he is asking me seriously or metaphorically. I mean, honestly, whichever one it is, I can’t answer him. And, I don’t want to admit it out loud, but I don’t really want to sit and ponder all the implications of this. The three requirements echo in my head, and I say them out loud.
“Innocent yet guilty. Courageous yet fearful. Strong yet broken.”
“Riddles aren’t my area of expertise.” Rye smiles.
“I think I might have an idea, but then again every time I think I have an idea I have to consider something else too. Some new piece to it all. Sorry, I don’t know if I am ready to share my thoughts and theories,” I tell him.
“You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”
He releases my hand and I sense a shift in his mood. Where his hand was there’s a warm tingle, and I really miss the connection of our fingers. Does he feel it? That spark?
“When I found my family, they were all just lying so still. Peaceful. I’d never seen my parents so relaxed. You know, death is kinda just one big long sleep really. I’ve never told anyone about that day before. Hell, I was in shock and confused, processing the scene before me. Mom’s glazed-over stare, unblinking on the ceiling. There’s one thing that will probably always stick with me from that moment.”
He pauses and sniffs. If he starts crying, I am going to lose my shit.
“Mom died holding Dad’s hand. Even in death, she wanted to be with him, touching him. They were two of the most in love people I have ever met.”
Dammit. But I totally get it.
“Red water,” I say.
“Hmm?” Rye says, a look of confusion on his face.
“When I found my mom. She was lying in her bathwater, a porcelain doll in a bed of garnet.”
I stare off into space, not adding to the imagery more than I already have. What plays out in my head is enough imagery for everyone. He doesn’t need to know all the gory details. Like my mom’s tissue torn by the blade she used to end her life.
He touches my arm and centers me back in the present.
“Hey, when I get into one of these dark moods, you know what always cheers me up?”
I don’t care what he says as long as those strange but beautiful eyes remain on me and he keeps touching me.
“What cheers you up?”
“Crushing things. Feel like getting a little destructive? Safely of course.”
“Yes. Very much so.”
I follow him, our hands linked again, and I never want to let him go. He guides me past booths where couples are tossing rings on bottles and throwing balls at nearly impossible to hit milk bottles. When we approach the hammer game I just snicker. I mean, the damn hammer is almost as big as me! Rye goes first and hits it weakly.
“Come on. Use those big god muscles of yours!” I shout, earning an awkward glance from him.
I just raise a brow at him as if to say who really cares here, and he laughs and turns back to the game. It is nice to see him playing the gentle giant. I mean, he could totally break the game with his bare hands if he wanted.
“If you think you can do better, step on up.”
Rye offers me the hammer. I take it reluctantly and I am surprised by its weight. Well, not really. It’s really freaking heavy and I kinda already guessed it would be. My first swing is just okay.
“Come on, use those muscles.” Rye taunts from behind me, but I can tell he is actually encouraging me.
I feel a fire starting in my core as he cheers me on. I swing again, raising the little gauge higher than the first time, but I still don’t hit the bell at the top.
“Come on, Sailor. You can do it. Just believe in yourself. You’re strong…beautiful.”
You’re strong...beautiful.
He didn’t mean for me to hear that last part. I know because of how his voice trailed off into a whisper, but the fire was already lit and that is enough to set me aflame.
I lift the heavy hammer and with as much effort as I can muster, I slam it down on the pad at my feet, shooting the gauge to the highest setting and striking the winner’s bell. The bell rings and the game attendant, who is not nearly as happy as me, starts to hand me a stuffed monkey almost bigger than the hammer.
But there’s no time to accept victory awards—my body has a mind of its own. I jump, excited about my win, into Rye’s arms, and he catches me without so much as flinching. It’s as if my weight is nothing for him to hold.
My breath catches as I realize what I’ve done and time freezes. He isn’t putting me down, he’s just smiling into my eyes, and the next thing I know, I’m leaning in.
A loud scream cuts through the air. The moment was almost perfect, but before our lips could touch, we were pulled out of the moment.
“What was that?” Rye asks.
His voice is deeper than usual and he sets me down.
Damn.
Whatever moment we had is broken.
“Sounds like someone screaming?” I say, trying
