The Lies That Bind

27: I'll Take An Existential Crisis With My Pancakes, Please

Even a dead guy.

He abandoned that jealous—and somewhat concerning—train of thought when Calla said, "I think I finally figured out what it is that's missing." She turned her face to his. "Humanity."

Cooper leapt at the chance to smooth over her jagged edges. "You're still human, Calla."

"Yes," she conceded, impatient. "I'm still a human being, by definition. But kindness, and generosity, and compassion and remorse and all the other things that make up this shitty, miserable human experience..." Her eyes had gone flat. Cold, like a reptile. "There's a...a darkness where the kindness and compassion should be, Cooper. It's never bothered me before. But maybe that's what the killing does. It fills the empty spaces."

And what about me? Do I fill up those empty spaces?

As if in response to his unspoken question, she stepped closer to him. But then she hesitated. Giving him the space he needed to refuse her, if that was what he wanted. "I know you want to fix me. I know you think the...the pancakes and the normal little moments will make up for all the empty. But they won't. I am what I am." She turned her face away from his. "And I'm afraid what I am doesn't fit into your plans for a perfect future together."

Cooper just stared at her. Is that what he wanted? To fix her? To...to patch up the holes and the imperfections and turn her into someone else, someone whose lies wouldn't come so easily.

Someone who could love and be loved.

But she could love. He'd seen it before, in the smoke and ashes as she burned the last of her keepsakes of Rachel. He'd heard it in her words as she promised him a long, happy life, even as she gave up on her own. He'd felt it in her touch, surprisingly gentle as she held his face in her hands. As she kissed him. Whispered his name in the dark.

She was a liar, yes. But she'd made a liar out of him, too—and now hers was the only truth he knew.

"I don't want to fix you," he said quietly, but he made no move to close the distance between them. Not yet. "And yeah, okay. So what if I do have plans? So what if I think of the future? Our future," he corrected himself. "Sue me for wanting more for both of us."

"Cooper—"

"I don't care," he interjected. "I'm not an idiot, you know. It wouldn't be perfect. One year from now or five years from now, things will probably still be messy between us. I mean, we're an absolute clusterfuck as it is."

She choked on a laugh. "That's an understatement."

"Oh, shut up. I'm trying to have a moment here."

She clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling as she waited for him to continue with his moment. And suddenly, the awkwardness of this conversation, the heavy—it was worth it, just to see her fighting that smile. She was more alive now than she'd been in days. Weeks.

He would do anything to keep it that way. And that scared him.

"I won't pretend to understand everything about you," he said slowly, stepping around the kitchen island. Playing fire with the no-man's-land between them. "And I won't pretend you don't scare the hell out of me sometimes." At that, her smile wavered. "This thing with the professor...it's eating me up inside. Just like Rachel still eats you up inside."

The light in her eyes started to dim. "That's not—"

"I know it's not the same. The guilt I feel about Professor Li...you wouldn't understand the first thing about it. I get that now. But you're angry, Calla. You're angry about what happened to Rachel, and that anger doesn't just come from nowhere. You care. Don't bother denying it."