I want to be able to say the same for Cypress. But I can’t.
He’s the reason I’m venturing outside into the chill instead of staying warm in bed, unable to fall asleep myself when I know he’s out here on his own.
He doesn’t acknowledge me as I take the chair next to him, too busy looking out into the dark woods around us. Never one to be cowed by anything that could be hiding out there, he rather seems to be comforted by it.
“Cy,” I call to him after a time, hoping to bring him back. “It’s bad again, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t say anything, that alone enough of a confirmation, but I can see the way his jaw tightens in the lantern light, can see the steadytap, tap, tappinghe’s doing with his hand against hisleg. That he keeps doing once he gets up and starts pacing the porch.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I don’t—” he starts to say, his tone agitated. “Because I don’t want there to be anythingtosay. I’m fine. Iwantto be fine.”
“I know you do,” I say, not going to him yet, because I’m not sure it’s what he wants. “I know you do. It’s all right. I should’ve realized sooner. You’ve always done better here than anywhere else, but I was thinking even this morning. It’s been too long…”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not… I don’t… It’s not for you to reckon with.”
“It is,” I argue, leaning forward in my chair with my elbows on my knees. “If it’s you, Cy, then it is. And I know Cora would say the same. We both love you.”
His shoulders hunch, his hands tucking into his pockets. “I know.”
“Have you told her?”
“Have you told her about the bounty hunter?” he counters. “About what you think happened in Preston?” He’s partially trying to dodge my question but he’s also right to ask it. I do need to tell Cora what I know about the man who killed her father. What I think it means. But I hadn’t wanted to add another element of hopelessness to our situation when, for the present, she seems so happy.
“I will,” I say before I ask him my question again, never taking my eyes off him as he walks up and down the creaking floorboards. “Will you? Cypress, have you ever told her what happened to you? She asked that day we got here. About the scars.”
“I told her the beginning,” he says, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps you can tell her the middle.”
“If you want me to.”
“Seems right. That you should get to tell my story since I told her yours.”
“My story isn’t the same as yours.”
“I know.” He keeps moving, keeps tapping. “I know it’s not, but…but maybe you can still tell her the middle, and I suppose we’ll all simply have to keep reading to find out the ending.”
“Cy.” I stand, stepping into his path and pulling him to me. “It’s okay.”
He sags against my body, letting himself lean into me. “I keep finding myself there when I go to sleep. I keep having nightmares about it… I don’t want to. I don’t want to be there.”
“I know,” I tell him, wrapping my arms tighter around him as if that can hold all his pieces together. “It’s okay. We’ll leave. We’ll start moving again.”
“It’s not time yet,” he says, his forehead falling to my shoulder as his breathing starts to settle. “You’re right. We need to wait until things are better, need to figure out something that doesn’t require us to go into a town guns blazing.”
I sigh. “Fuck, I know it’s bad if you’re thinking I’m right.”
He chuckles, and the tightness in my chest loosens as I pull back to hold his face in my hands. “What do you need?”
“I think I just need…I think I need a change of scenery. Even if only for a day.”
“That’s why you want to go to town?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” I frown, searching his blue eyes. “I’m sorry for not letting you go out this morning. I just thought—I know you normally don’t like to be on your own.”
“Still don’t, but I need to move. And people will be less suspicious seeing only me. Instead of the wholeMidnight Gang.” I scoff and he turns his head to kiss my palm. “I won’t be on my own for long. I’ll stretch my legs and then come back. Good as new.”