“That’s not… Margaret said…”
“Margaret knows. She thought you should hear it from me when you were ready.” His jaw tightened. “But you’ve spent the last week pushing me away and assuming the worst, so here it is: I’m not trapped. I’m here because I want to be. That’s achoice, Cassie. My choice.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When? When you were crying in my car and then walking home in the rain? When you spent three days pretending I didn’t exist? When you flinched every time I walked into a room?” The words came faster now, rougher. “You didn’t want to hear it. You still don’t.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is being treated like a prisoner when I’m choosing to stay.” He set down his pie plate with more force than necessary. “I’ve been trying to give you space. Trying to let you process. But you’re not processing, Cassie. You’re building walls. Higher every day. And I’m tired of pretending I don’t see it.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are. You decided I was going to leave, so you’re pushing me out first. Easier that way, right? Can’t be abandoned if you do the abandoning.”
The words hit like physical blows. She stepped back. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what are you doing? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re so terrified of being hurt that you’re hurting both of us preemptively.”
“You don’t understand?—”
“I understand perfectly. I was married to a woman who manipulated me for twelve years. I know something about trust issues.” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment she saw the rawness underneath his frustration. “But I’m not him, Cassie. I’m not Derek. I’m just a man who’s choosing to be here, with you, and apparently that’s the most unbelievable thing you’ve ever heard.”
“When the binding fully breaks, you’ll go.” The words came out like a reflex. Like armor. “Everyone goes. Eventually.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m standing heretelling youthe binding isn’t holding me anymore. I could leave right now. This moment. And I’m still here. What more do you need?”
“I don’t know!” The words exploded out of her, louder than she meant. Loud enough that a few nearby shoppers turned to stare. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know how to believe that someone would actually choose me. Not obligation me. Not stuck-with me.Chooseme. Because that’s not—that’s never been?—”
Her voice broke. The magic surged with it.
The lights strung over the market flickered.A gust of wind came from nowhere, sending napkins and flyers spiraling into the air. The ground under her feet hummed.
“Cassie, you need to ground?—”
“Don’t tell me what I need!” She was crying now, and furious about it. “You don’t get to show up and fix my music boxes and look at me like I’m worth something and then expect me to justbelieveit. That’s not how this works. That’s not howIwork. I’m broken, Liam. I’ve been broken for a long time, and you can’t fix that with patience and hand-holding and?—”
“I don’t want to fix you!”
“Then what do you want?”
“YOU. Just you. Broken and chaotic and too much and all of it.” He stepped toward her, and she felt the magic building, responding to her fear. “I want the woman who creates thunderstorms when she’s overwhelmed. I want the disaster in the too-small kitchen with the talking cat and the French toaster. I want?—”
She didn’t mean to do it.
The magic lashed out before she could stop it—a wave of force that hit him square in the chest and sent him stumbling back three feet, knocking over a display of jam jars that crashed to the ground in a symphony of breaking glass.
The market went silent.
Everyone was staring.
Liam stood amid the wreckage—jam on his shoes, glass glittering around him—and looked at her with an expression that shattered something in her chest.
Not anger. Not fear.
Just… sadness. Bone-deep and weary.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean—I couldn’t control?—”
