Chapter 164 Beneath the Firelight
POV Maya:
I’m screwed!
That was the first thought I had the moment I opened my eyes and found myself naked, sleeping between two gods. I had to get out of there, so I fled to my room before they woke up. I thought there would be no problem spending time with each brother to say goodbye, however, being with Mikhail and Adrian last night only showed me how dangerous this is for my heart, which risks being shattered every time it grows more intimate with them when the moment of farewell arrives.
I don’t like this kind of pain. Besides being unsettling, it reminds me that I have never found someone who could return what I feel. My days are running out; I only have three more days to share my smiles with them, and a little of what they make me feel. I cannot be honest and tell them that I have feelings—they won’t believe me. And even if such a miracle happened and they did believe, I wouldn’t have them; I would only push them away.
It isn’t easy pretending everything is fine, just as it isn’t easy pretending that the time I’m spending with them isn’t the best of my life. I have tried to tell myself that all of this will pass once I’m far from them, that other incredible moments will still happen, but I’m afraid—afraid that all these feelings won’t go away, because they need to. I cannot feel something for them that they will never be able to return. Besides being delusional, I would be very cruel to myself.
I cannot keep loving people who don’t love me. I cannot continue accepting what began with my parents. I need to meet someone who loves me without asking for anything in return, because that is the true meaning of love: to give without expecting anything from the other person. And all I have done in the past years is wait—wait for any crumb of love.
I keep folding my clothes. I want to leave everything packed in my suitcases; I don’t want to leave it for the last day. There will already be too many difficult things to do then—like saying goodbye to the Moretti family without even being able to say how important they were to me. After leaving Mikhail’s bed at dawn, I made a decision: going to Dallas will not be enough. I need a greater distance to forget the brothers. That’s why I will take a vacation. I’m thinking of going to Hawaii. It’s time to sunbathe on those beautiful beaches.
I just need to make sure that after everything I lived with them, I can start over. I need to believe I can, because otherwise, what is left for me? I have a long road ahead until I achieve my dream, and I will not give up on it. I need to believe that something great awaits me somewhere. If it isn’t in El Soledad, it will be somewhere in the world.
...
And here we are again, gathered together. The brothers eat the meat sauce in silence, and it’s strange. Today they are very quiet. The most they spoke was when they scolded Louis for peeing in all the brothers’ boots, but that soon became strange too—the shouting at Louis was brief, and not five minutes later they were passing him from lap to lap. I watched everything from the living room couch while doing my facial detox.
They only said good morning to me and nothing else. Not even Adrian and Mikhail spoke to me after last night. It is as if farewell truly means farewell. I play with the sauce on my plate, with no appetite at all, but I do not waste food, so I take my plate and give it to Dominic, who takes it and eats the sauce without saying a word. I glance quickly at the other brothers and notice they were looking at me, though they soon avert their eyes.
Three days. Three days before I leave. Three days to have them a little more for myself.
“Maya, have you decided if you’re going to the flower shop today?” the question comes from Luca, and I shake my head. “If you decide not to go, we can do something nice today.”
“Really? What?” I ask, excited, making them smile.
“We were thinking of making a bonfire tonight and roasting some marshmallows,” Sebastian declares cheerfully, and my smile fades, the old pain of abandonment infiltrating my heart far too quickly.
How many stupid dreams have I had to let die just to keep moving forward? I think I lost count. Why do I allow this shit to still affect me? After years, why do I allow them to keep having power over my happiness? I notice the brothers looking at me with concern, and I give a sad smile. I know I can share anything with them, because they will not look at me the way others did.
Poor girl. Pitiful. Raised by monsters. Raised without love.
“I always wanted to eat marshmallows, but I never could,” I swallow hard. “There were many things I was never allowed to do, and I’m happy that after fourteen years of waiting, I will be able to fulfill my first dream.” I smile, emotional. “Thank you for this, cowboys.”
They say nothing, and I am grateful. We do not need to make this a big thing. It’s just a bonfire and some roasted marshmallows. It isn’t as if it were more than that. I lift my eyes, and the brothers look away again. I shake my head, not wanting to understand what is going on with them when I barely know what is going on with me.
...
Okay, I’m nervous.
I admit it.
I’m already on my third outfit change. The brothers have already called me to come down to the bonfire—they said I’m the only one missing—but I froze. I can’t walk down those damn stairs and go to them, at the same time that I want to run and taste the one thing I spent years wanting to know the flavor of, yet because of my parents I created an aversion, never wanting to put a roasted marshmallow in my mouth. I want to hide and pretend I’m not feeling well and let this go.
They could have chosen a horror movie night. I would have loved that more. I take a deep breath several times, not wanting the past to take control of my present, but it’s hard, very hard. I sit on the edge of the bed, thinking about the excuse I will make when one of them comes to call me again. I cannot do this. I will not be able to erase years of sadness, years feeling inadequate, just for fulfilling my first dream of eating a marshmallow. This is foolish. I feel like that lonely twelve-year-old girl again.
“Maya?”
Shit, did it have to be Sebastian to come call me?
“Hi?” I fake a cough.
“Are you okay?”