Glass: Chapter 24

I jerk awake, thrashing and sweating against my bedsheets.

The image of Stasi’s tears ingrained into my memories.

How many more times did she cry, when I wasn’t there?

Ten years of dreaming of her, and it never gets any easier. But this, this recollection of our first night together in my music room, feels too real. Too painful to make closing my eyes easier.

So I slip from my bedroom, heading downstairs and pushing open the door.

Even here, I can see her. See her sat on the stool in front of my piano. See her leaning over the instrument, see her dancing around it.

Th ghosts of our past surround me. Each one a painful reminder of how far away we are from the future I once dared to dream about.

Anastasia is built into every part of who I am. I wonder if she even realizes how much she shaped the person I am today.

Through her laughter, and her joy.

Through her smile.

And through her absence.

I slowly walk over to the piano. My fingers trail over the keys.

“Kit.”

I whirl at the soft whisper, unsure if I’m dreaming. A small silhouette is framed in the doorway, shadowed in the dim light.

She steps into the room, almost a replica of ten years ago.

But this Stasi is older. Her eyes look tired, weighted down from the time we’ve spent apart, and the toll of the last few months.

I’m tired, too. Tired of pretending that I haven’t needed her here, every second that she wasn’t.

Tired of pretending that I don’t need her still.

She lifts one hand to rub at her arm. Uncertain, as she glances around. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“You have never disturbed me.” I let the words go, let them float across the room to her. “Except when you weren’t here.”

She takes a breath. “Kit.”

“Why did you leave me, Stasi?”

I have never asked her outright. But I’m done with dancing around this. Around us.

I need to know if the suspicion building in my chest is right.

And if it is… then I might need to face the fact that instead of pretending to hate her all these years, I should have been loving her. She should have been here, with us.

And while my brothers and I were wallowing in our misery and grief, she… she was suffering.

So much wasted time.

She yanks down the sleeve of her shirt, her fingers toying with the dark material as if for comfort. “You know why.”

“No,” I say softly. I take a step closer. Another, until I’m right in front of her, lifting her chin up. “I know what I was told. But I have never heard it from you. So I’ll ask you again, Anastasia. Why did you leave me?”

Her eyes look close to black in the darkness. I switched on no lights as I entered. Only the small lamp from the hallway throws out any light, casting shadows onto her face.

“Tell me,” I breathe. My forehead drops, resting against hers. “I’ll get to my knees and beg if I have to, Stasi. Fuck knows I have plenty of other things to atone for.”

Her breath hitches beneath my hands.

And slowly, the words come out. First in haltering, almost soundless sentences, before she finds her stride.

And the longer she talks, the colder my heart becomes inside my chest. Twisting, squeezing as I learn the truth of that day.

Finally, her hands come up to cover mine. “I know what you’re thinking,” she breathes. Her eyes widen as she stares at me. “But it wasn’t his fault, Kit. Don’t be angry. He was doing what he thought was right. And… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

That’s a discussion that will wait. Not for long, not with the anger threatening to restrict my lungs, curling around my heart in pulsing, furious beats.

But not for tonight. Not with Stasi finally in my arms, the truth laid bare between us.

“That’s it?” I ask her, hardly daring to breathe. “There’s nothing else?”

My thumb strokes along her cheekbone as she shakes her head. “That’s it. But I’m so sorry, Kit. I didn’t mean to lie to you. But she was my mother.”

My eyes slide closed. That’s it.

Angelica. It always came back to Angelica.

“Good,” I murmur.

And then I tilt her head back, her lips parting, and I press my mouth against hers. Sliding one hand to cup the back of her head, I drag her into me, breathe her in the way I’ve waited to do for too fucking long.

She gasps into my mouth and I swallow it down, swallow every noise she makes as she sinks into me, pliant and soft and fucking perfection in my arms. Like she was always meant to be there, the way I always knew she was, even when she was gone.

I move my lips from hers. Pressing kisses across the soft skin of her cheek, tasting the silky, sweet notes of her neck.

Learning her.

“I waited ten years for you,” I whisper into her skin. “And I would have waited forever, Stasi.”

Her eyes are wet when I pull back. Wet and full of stars.

Reverently, I stroke my thumb along her cheek. She’s shaking beneath my touch. “Stasi.”

“Kit.”

Her face twists, her body drooping as though the weight on her shoulders is too much. “Kit.”

And I catch her, as her legs crumple. I sink to my knees with her held tightly in my arms.

“I’ve got you.” My throat feels thick as she buries her face in my chest, as her shoulders shake with tears. “And I’ll never let go. Never again, Stasi. I swear to you.”

Shifting, I maneuver us until she’s nestled in my lap, her arms tight around my neck. And I hold her, my hands stroking through her hair as she sobs into my skin, her tears soaking us both and sending bolts of pain ripping through my chest.

I’ll hold her forever, if that’s what it takes to make this right.

But I can’t go back and change things. Not the night she left.

Not the time she spent apart from us.

All I can do right now is hold on.

So that’s what I do.