[This post is from Matt’s point of view.]
They were both silent for a long time and Matt just held her. Hecate leaned against him, hugging her knees against her chest, leaning against him, her forehead against his neck.
At least the tears that had threatened were still being held at bay.
“You traveled a lot,” Matt murmured. “Took classes.”
“It seemed like the thing to do,” she said softly, reaching up to tangle her fingers in the soft knit of his shirt. “I’d seen so much in the past, but everything changes with time. It had been forever since I really traveled. I’d been in the States for centuries, barely left. It was time.” She titled her face up until their gazes met. “It was nice. It was really interesting, and I enjoyed it. It…in some ways, it helped me focus. Helped me find me without the drugs.”
“Drugs?” Matt echoed. His brows knit.
Hecate bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, for a while I actually managed to find a shrink that didn’t think what was telling her was some kind of delusion and diagnose me based on that instead of all the things that were really wrong. Before that I’d always avoided that kind of thing. The last thing I wanted was to become some kind of drooling idiot locked away someplace.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Even though I probably deserve it. To be locked up.”
“Hecate.”
She shook her head, smiling wryly. “It’s all right. I know what you’re going to say.” Her fingers brushed his cheek. “And thank you for even thinking it.”
Matt exhaled a sigh, arms tightening slightly. “If you’re—”
“Matt.”
He stopped and shook his head. “Okay. Okay, I won’t argue the point.”
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it. “In any case, after she was gone, I was pretty sure I’d never find anyone who would believe me the way she did, so I picked up the other ways that I’d used to cope.”
“The sketchbooks?”
She smiled faintly. “Those were more than trying to keep myself together, to keep myself me. Those…I just liked it. I liked drawing, painting. I—I’ve always liked creating things more than destroying them. And seeing things, things that other people don’t notice.” She looked away. “That’s how I knew that Cíar needed help all those yesterdays ago. I could see it when I first looked into his eyes. I could see the real him trapped back there, caged by the thing that had taken over him. I like to think that—that he found some peace when we were together.”
“He did,” Matt whispered. “But you knew that he did, didn’t you?”
“I thought I did,” she said. “But sometimes I would doubt it. I hated that I did, but I couldn’t help it. There are some things that you just can’t help, I guess.”
“He loved you,” Matt said. “Never doubt it, Hecate. Not for a second.”
He kissed her, then, and felt her lean into his lips. Her arms snaked around his neck and held on.
And I love you, too. I really do.
He picked her up and carried her back to the house.
I’m liking this a lot.