Her Name in the Sky

“I hurt you,” Baker cries. “I hurt the one person I love more than anyone else in the world.”

Please. Please can you make it stop hurting it hurts so badly. I don’t want it. It hurts and I don’t want it. I’m trying to make it go away. Please, just make it go away, just make it go away.
But there’s an ancient voice deep inside of her that knows it will never go away, no matter what she does or how hard she prays.

“I hurt you,” Baker cries. “I hurt the one person I love more than anyone else in the world.”

Baker’s mouth moves against hers, and now they’re full on kissing, their lips sliding against each other’s while Hannah’s heart rises up to fill the room around them. And it’s magic, it’s sacred ritual, it’s God.

And Hannah, standing in the kitchen with Wally, looks over to Baker and feels drawn to her by a force so powerful, so lovely, that she can almost see it shimmering in the air between them.

Then Baker turns her head—Hannah can sense it with every nerve inside of her—and kisses Hannah’s cheek.

She brushes her fingers down Hannah’s cheek, and Hannah’s heart beats faster. “I’m really glad you’re my best friend,” Baker says.
“Me too,” Hannah says.

They kiss each other’s lips, and Hannah feels the spring of creation in her body and blood.

Hannah pulls Baker against her, wrapping her arms around her as tightly as she can, nudging Baker’s head down onto her shoulder. She can feel Baker breathing hard against her, her tears bleeding through Hannah’s tank top and into her skin; she cradles Baker’s head with one hand, feeling her soft, warm hair under her palm, and secures her body with her other, spreading her fingers over the back of her shirt so that she can feel her spine and her deep, shuddering breaths.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for a while. I fought against it before, but I get it now. I get it.” She shakes her head, breathing shallowly. “I love you so much.”