I threw my head back and laughed, proving his theory correct. I was a bit insane, all in thanks to him.
His eyes narrowed, the heat behind them getting even hotter. “I’m not following. But I’ll be damned if I don’t take the bait.”
“Did you even miss me?”
Putting a hand to his chest, he squeezed his eyes shut. When they reopened, they blazed with anger, shock, and disbelief.
“How could you?” I almost seethed.
He put his thumb and pointer finger over the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. He mumbled something gruff and indistinguishable, but I caught the tail end of it—woman. It was said like an imprecation.
“I need to know,” I said, taking a step forward, toward him. I poked him in the chest. “How you did it. How you sent me away to live—” I waved my hands around “—here! Without you! Over three effing years! And look at you—as beautiful as ever. Like you never suffered one day without me. What was the remedy, Fausti? Because I could’ve used it! Oh,wait. You couldn’t tell me. You were too busy pretending like I didn’t exist!”
“You’re blaming me for this. For your hair—”
“You’re effing wrong!” I yelled. Unlike him, I didn’t have as much presence. My voice echoed. “I’m not blaming you for my hair. I’m blaming you foreverything! Being here! Crying myself to sleep all those nights! Meeting Olivier Nemours! This is ALL YOUR FAULT! Now look at me—I have people cutting off my effing hair!”
“Effing. Is that even a real word?”
A growl came from my mouth before I lunged at him. He caught me by the arms, but he couldn’t stop my mouth from the assault.
“You didn’t even have the decency to call! Your life went on!”
You made me do this… You did this to me… You forced me to…you, you, you.
It’s all I could manage; it hurt to fight with myself to forgive him. If my body was intent on it, my heart was going to battle before it gave in, more afraid of another potential loss than it was of weapons and death.
He battled similar demons. We were both shouting before long, going back and forth, words as sharp as pointed stones, drawing blood for blood.
You drank, not me, you danced, not me. I wanted this for you… I wanted that for you…
One more word and one of us was going to fall.
He released me in a surge of energy, running a hand through his hair, pacing around the pool of golden light from the lantern. A constant warning sound vibrated in his chest.
Standing there, watching him, I trembled with the hollowness that follows the release. I was emptied completely, and so raw, so damn raw, that the iron tang of blood was thick on my tongue.
A gasp left my mouth when he took me by the arms again, propelling me toward the overhang of the bridge. My back collided with the lower part of it. He shook me a bit, the vibration in his chest radiating from deep in his bones. His hands trembled and the heat from his skin was hot enough to burn.
“Tell me what to do, Scarlett. Tellme.”
I had no answer. Not then.
“Tell me,” he whispered, but he might as well have roared, for the emotion behind it made me flinch. His eyes drove the weapon home.
“I—” I shook my head.
“No, don’t get tongue tied now. What can I fucking do?”
The word seemed to slip out without conscious thought. “Stay.”
“I’m here. I can’t get any closer.”
I hadn’t realized how frantic my eyes were until I found my reflection in his. Finding that the word meant something else, he answered the deeper meaning of the plea.
“If I don’t go back, we lose the house on Snow. It’s all we have. It’s the only thing I can give you. It’s your—”
“What about—” My voice came out low and rough, my throat sore from cold, emotion, and all of the shouting. “The money from Luca.”
