Ah, but you don’t want me to disagree, my love.“You sounded pretty certain. I didn’t want to argue.”
Her mouth twitches. “Smartass.”
I sip, watching her from the corner of my eye. She’s avoiding the couch, avoiding sitting near me, avoiding letting her knee brush mine even accidentally. Which is wise, and perfectly reasonable.
Pity my body, taut and responsive behind the relaxed mask, doesn’t understand reason.
“So,” she says, leaning her head back against the couch, eyes half-lidded, “we’re supposed to forget what happened, right?”
I can feel my pulse jump in my throat. “Your rule,” I remind her softly.
“Right.” She swallows hard. “Forget.”
We sit there in the velvety thick quiet for another long moment. The crackle of the fire is too loud, and her breathing is too soft. My heart is too heavy in my chest.
She clears her throat. “So, uh… the generator.”
“Yes?” I ask.
“You could’ve been badly hurt.” She plays listlessly with the rim of her cup.
“I wasn’t.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is to me.”
She scowls at the air, frustrated with me, with herself, and with the laws of physics that threatened me. “You scared me.”
Something inside me tugs, like pain and hope tangled together. “I know,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry for that, too.”
Her eyes flick to mine. Soft. A little too honest.
“I don’t want to fight,” she whispers.
My spine relaxes. “I never wanted to fight you.”
“Youkissedme,” she blurts, then flushes crimson. “I’m not bringing it up to yell, I promise. I just… why?” She looks like she regrets asking even before the question hangs fully between us.
I set my mug down, hands suddenly unsteady. “Because I was terrified,” I say. “Because adrenaline is stupid. Because you were brilliant and fierce and you saved my life like it was easy.” It’s true, just not the whole story.
She stares at me like she’s bracing for an earthquake. The same one I am.
Maybe it’s time, finally, to just be honest. Stop pretending. Stop hiding. And just admit the truth, for its own sake.
“And,” I add quietly, “because I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time.”
Her inhale is sharp enough to hurt.
“Nate…”
I shake my head to cut her off. “It’s the truth.”
She looks away, staring into the fire like it has answers and solutions that will make this all turn out right.
My voice feels too big for the room. “It doesn’t mean you owe me anything. It doesn’t mean I expect -”
“How long?” she whispers.
