A little Courage

I felt the words catching in my throat, tangled in the intensity of the moment. Jordan's eyes softened, a gentle smile curving his lips, but he didn't look away. His gaze held me, grounding me, and I felt a familiar, exhilarating pull that went beyond words. All the memories we'd been uncovering, the past lives and the sketches of faces and places I could barely recall—they felt like they had all been leading me here.

"Yes?" he whispered, his voice soft, almost reverent. His hand was still on mine, and I felt its warmth radiate through me. 

I swallowed, feeling a surge of courage, the kind that comes only when you're standing on the edge of something you're afraid to lose. "I just… I want to thank you. For everything. For being here, for understanding. I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like… like I've known you for longer than I can remember."

Jordan's smile grew, his fingers gently intertwining with mine. "Maybe you have. Maybe we've been waiting for each other through all those lives and memories you're starting to uncover."

The weight of his words struck me, settling in my chest with a mix of wonder and hope. "It does feel that way," I murmured. "Sometimes, it's like you're the only person who truly sees me… or at least the parts of me that I haven't even fully come to understand."

His fingers tightened around mine, and he leaned in, his face inches from mine, his expression intense. "I see you, Avery. All of you. I can't explain it either, but I feel it too." His voice was a low murmur, almost a confession. "I've felt it from the start."

The world around us seemed to blur, the park fading into the background as his face filled my vision. I could feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with mine as he leaned closer. The familiar doubts and fears I usually carried with me faded into the distance, leaving only the present, only us. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a quiet invitation that made my pulse race.

But then, just as our faces were inches apart, an echo of one of my past memories came rushing back—an abrupt, vivid flash of pain and betrayal, a memory I hadn't been able to fully process. A figure, shadowed in the distance, someone I'd once trusted, pulling away, leaving me with nothing but a hollow ache. I felt a chill course through me, a haunting reminder that made me instinctively pull back.

Jordan noticed immediately, his expression shifting to concern. "Avery? Are you all right?"

I forced a smile, trying to shake off the disorienting sensation. "Yeah, I just… I remembered something. It's strange—this memory that feels so real, but it's of someone leaving me. Someone I trusted."

He nodded slowly, his hand still holding mine, as though he was afraid that letting go would mean losing me, too. "Is it from one of your past lives?"

"I think so. But it feels so raw, like I'm still holding onto it even now." I looked away, unable to shake the sense of abandonment that lingered from the memory. "I guess I'm just scared. Scared that getting close to someone will mean reliving that loss again."

Jordan's expression softened, and he took a deep breath, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand in a comforting gesture. "I get it. But whatever happened in those memories—it's not now. You're here, I'm here, and we're figuring it out together." He paused, his gaze holding mine. "We don't have to repeat the past."

I wanted to believe him, but the fear was still there, rooted deep inside me. "What if it's inevitable?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "What if we're just destined to keep reliving those mistakes, over and over?"

He shook his head, his eyes resolute. "I don't believe that. We're given these memories for a reason. Maybe it's not to repeat them, but to learn from them, to grow beyond them."

For a moment, I let his words sink in, allowing myself to imagine a future not haunted by the past but shaped by it in a way that could make me stronger. Maybe this connection between us wasn't about recreating old wounds but healing them. I met his gaze, feeling the warmth of his reassurance anchor me, and slowly, I started to feel the fear subside.

"Maybe you're right," I said quietly. "I've just spent so long carrying these memories like weights, afraid to let anyone get too close because I didn't want to face them."

"Then let me help you carry them," he said, a determined spark in his eyes. "You don't have to do this alone, Avery. And whatever memories come, whatever we uncover together—we'll face them. No one's going anywhere."

There was a sincerity in his words that soothed the lingering ache within me, and I felt my heart settle, the tension slowly fading. "Thank you, Jordan," I murmured, my voice steadier than before. "For being here, for being… you."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that always made my heart race. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

In that moment, I knew that whatever lay ahead, whatever memories or fears we would uncover, Jordan and I would face them together. It wasn't a perfect promise or a flawless future, but it was enough—enough to keep going, enough to keep trying, one step at a time.

And as we sat there, side by side, fingers intertwined, I felt the weight of those past lives slowly lift, replaced by something new, something hopeful—something that, for the first time, felt entirely ours.