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“Why didn’t you say so before?”
“Because even though I’m scared, I want to see the snakes. They’re beautiful, and move like dancers.”
He chuckles low, and I smile, despite our fight. Which wasn’t really a fight. Shaking my head, I walk with him along the cases.
He stops in front of the boa constrictor and lets go of me, turning his full attention on the animal. It’s huge, half-curled around a branch, its skin light brown with dark diamond patterns. Its forked tongue flicks out.
I shiver.
Seth presses a hand to the glass, and I jerk a little, an abortive attempt to pull him away from danger.
There’s no danger, I tell myself. The animals are inside cages and boxes.
He keeps doing that, putting his hands as close to the animals as possible. Thank God for barriers. I’m not sure he wouldn’t have tried it without the glass between him and the snake.
“Fuck me…” he mutters, and the awe in his voice is worth the uncertainty and panic. “This thing’s badass.”
“Yeah, it’s big,” I say, my voice small.
“They eat rodents and birds, and they give birth to babies, not eggs.” He taps his fingertips on the glass and the boa stares at him with a beady eye. “They’re so strong. They just grab their prey and wrap around it until it dies.”
“Jesus. Right.” I know all this, so why am I shivering again?
He glances at me and frowns. He pulls me against his side, slings a heavy arm over my shoulders. “You okay?”
I wrap my arm around his slim hips and smile up at him. “Why do you like the boas so much?”
He shrugs. “I… I wanted to be a herpetologist. I just love snakes, they’re so strong. Ancient creatures. Survivors. I wanted to study them. Christ, I just wanted… Fuck.” He pulls away from me, turns his back, draws an uneven breath.
And then another, and another, a tremor going through his shoulders.
“Seth?”
Jesus, what have I done?
He shakes his head, starts for the exit, and I hurry after him, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t let go, or push me away, and we walk out into the watery sunlight. He keeps going, stumbling, until we reach the relative privacy of a tree shade.
He releases my hand and turns away, leaning on his stick. “Gimme a minute.”
“What happened?” My heart’s in my throat. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. Fuck, I didn’t want to remember.”
“Remember what?” I walk around him until I face him again. “Remember what, Seth?”
Christ, his cheeks are wet. He’s just standing there, clutching his stick, tears tracking down his face, and it’s as if he can’t feel them.
“Remember everything I used to want,” he breathes. “All I can’t have.”
When I wrap my arms around him, he doesn’t resist. His stick clatters to the ground, and he does nothing for a long while, letting me hold him.
“Didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper against his shoulder, close to crying myself. “Only wanted to make you happy.”
“I’m fine,” he says, although his voice catches. He finally lifts his arms and hugs me back. “I promise, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” I cling to him. “My fault.”
“Manon,” he whispers my name, low and soft, like a prayer. Then he draws back and kisses me—salty with sorrow and sweet. Sweet and filled with a promise I can’t decipher.
