Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

32. Odin

32

Odin

‘Love Is A Wild Thing’ - Kacey Musgraves

I head back down the hallway toward the elevator, my feet heavy, my mind even heavier.

I’m reaching for the elevator button when I hear the door open, and light feet make quick work closing the distance. “Wait!”

I turn, my body stiffening with a million different sensations, seeing her approach me. Wonder, elation, lust, gratitude. Hope.

“Sorry, I—”

“Did Ford annoy you already?”

Etta laughs. “No. He’s calmed down. I just…” She pauses, fiddling with the material of her dress. If she jumped into my arms right now, I’d take her into the elevator, hit the emergency stop and lift her skirt over my head so I could lick her till she begged for relief while apologizing for everything I’ve ever said to upset her, and plead for her forgiveness.

“I wanted to ask you another question. ”

“Yes?”

“Is this something you want?” she asks.

I’m not sure what she means. She shakes her head and rephrases. “Let me try again. Is this fight for the Lombardos—this war for control—is this something you want to do for the rest of your life?”

I don’t answer her straight away. I let her words take form inside my brain.

Do I?

Do I want to be this person for the rest of my life?

Two months ago, I would have said yes. It would have turned my soul to ash. But I would have done it purely because I had nothing else to live for.

Now?

No. I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life.

In the last few weeks, my world has been shaken like the white dust in a snow globe. Etta was the tornado I needed to make me take stock of what my life has come to. Of what my life is missing.

Sitting at a fancy table, eating fancy food and trying to keep violence from brimming because of a badly worded comment. Watching people lose themselves in vices that age them beyond repair is not my idea of a fun time. Looking over my shoulder, constantly stressed for my friends’ safety, and now Etta’s.

It’s hell, actually. Pure fucking hell.

I hate appeasing these corrupt people. I hate that Cerbera thinks I’m on his level now that I’ve met at his table. I hate that he forced Etta on me and I’m so fucking grateful for it.

I think back to watching Etta’s face when we reached the cabin in Scotland. Angry, but still awed. The night was freezing and bleak, and yet, she followed me into it without a care. The way she gasped when she saw the elephant on the first day of our safari. When she played her favorite album this morning, the early Roman sun sparkling at her back.

I think of every golden ray of joy she has made me see and touch and hear. I think about how much I ache for more. How brilliant it would be to show her more places, to take her by the hand and get on the closest plane and fly to the furthest country. To spend every hour exploring the world and helping those who need it.

If owning property makes me successful, then I think the definition is wrong. Etta—after everything I’ve done—owns nothing. And yet she is more alive than I have been in the last decade. She is more important than the Lombardos and their fucked vendettas.

But… if it’s not me? Then who?

Several minutes go by before I finally have my answer. And I know it’s not what Etta wants to hear. Fuck. I don’t even want to hear it.

“No. It’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life. But I’m the only one who can.”

Etta drops her head. “Okay. I understand.”

An apology forms on the tip of my tongue, but never takes flight.

God. She’s too much for me.

I can’t keep her around and control the Lombardos. I know this. I have always known this.

Only now does it settle.

Only now does it begin to hurt.

Only now do I realize that’s what I want to do. I want to keep her. I want her to be my wife. But putting her in harm’s way could be the end of me.

The next time Etta speaks, she seems to have gathered herself. “They say in order to heal after a pet has died, the quickest and easiest way is to get another. It’s impossible to be sad with a cute puppy around.” She steps toward me, her movements tentative. “But humans are different. Replacing a wife—the greatest love you will ever experience—with another woman… It just doesn’t work like that. So, I guess I wanted to say that you may never come to love me like you loved Gen. And I’m fine with it, truly.

“Our marriage may not be conventional, and I know I make this hard because I’ve never loved someone like you have before. But I think it would be nice if we could still be partners. Wouldn’t it?”

I can’t speak. My throat is too tight.

Jesus fucking Christ, she has no idea, does she? If there was one woman I could ever fall in love with, it would be her. It would be Etta.

“Yes, of course,” I finally say.

“Good. Good. You’re a great man, Odin. A good man covered in scars you didn’t deserve.” She closes the gap and reaches for my hands. When we touch, a whole universe of possibility bursts into being. “I see you now and I support you.”

No. She needs to stop talking. She needs to turn around and go back into that apartment and stop ruining me further.

“I look forward to marrying you tomorrow.” I want to collapse to the ground. Etta lets go and steps away from me. No. No. Come back. Stay with me. “Goodnight.”

And because my heart is no longer in my ribcage, but resting in her hands, I have the confidence to say, “Harvey.”

Etta stills. “Pardon?”

Smiling, I offer her all of me. “Before my life went to shit, my name was Harvey.”

Etta swallows, then smiles, then her eyes begin to water. “Harvey,” she breathes. I’ve never heard a more splendid sound. At this moment, she really does see me. She sees everything and she couldn’t be more delighted.

“Yes,” I confirm.

“Hi, Harvey,” she says proudly. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” And then, with one final beat of her chisel, Etta disintegrates all the rock that I’ve held onto for too long. “The wait was definitely worth it.”

She leaves the hallway, back to the hotel room.

I stay standing in the same spot, outside of my body, experiencing everything for the first time. A pressure builds in my chest, and unlike every other time before, it’s lighter than air and precious beyond words.

It’s Gen’s soul coming to me and wrapping me in her arms. It’s her whispering her joy to me and urging me forward. It’s her generous spirit pulling grief from its place inside my head and flinging it out to sea.

I don’t need it.

Gen is here with me. She always will be.

But Etta is flesh and blood. She’s color and life.

She’s the rest of my life.