“That’s not all,” she says. “I thought I heard you say you loved me.”
The words just sit there between us.
I could lie. I could tell her she imagined it. Blame the concussion, the blood loss, the sirens. It would probably be safer.
I’m so tired of lying.
“I did,” I say.
Her head snaps up. Our eyes meet and hold. Her pulse is hammering in her throat; I can see it.
“You shouldn’t,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“You’re a killer, Aleksander.” There’s no accusation in it, just fact. “You scare me. Your mother terrifies me. Your world is…” She lets out a breath. “It’s not mine.”
“I know that too.”
“But I still—” She breaks off, biting her lip. “I don’t want to leave you.”
That’s the one that goes through all my armor.
I lean back a little, looking at her, at the bandage on her head, the smudged bruises on her arms where someone grabbed her. I did this. I brought this into her life. And somehow, she’s sitting here telling me she doesn’t want to go.
“You remember what I told you in the car?” I ask. “When I said I can’t give my mother what she wants?”
She nods.
“She wants proof she can use you against me,” I say. “She wants to see me soft. Attached. Afraid. That’s why I pulled away earlier.”
Her cheeks flush. “That was rude, by the way.”
“I know,” I say, a corner of my mouth twitching. “I’m not good at…timing.”
She snorts, then goes quiet again. “What about now?” she asks, voice small. “Is now a bad time too?”
It’s a terrible time.
I look at her, really look at her. The stubborn set of her jaw. The fear she’s not bothering to hide. The way her hand has drifted, unconsciously, closer to Lily’s.
“I don’t know how this ends,” I say honestly. “I don’t know if I make it out. I don’t know how long you’ll be gone. I don’t know if I ever get to find you again.”
Her eyes shine. “You’re not selling this very well.”
“I’m not trying to sell it,” I say. “I’m trying not to lie to you.”
She’s so close. All I’d have to do is reach out.
“For what it’s worth,” I add, “loving you doesn’t feel like giving my mother what she wants. It feels like the only thing that isn’t rotten in this whole mess.”
That does it. Her breath catches.
She leans in first this time, slow, like she’s giving me a chance to pull away again. I don’t. I meet her halfway.
The kiss is not like the others. Not rushed. Not about heat or distraction. It’s careful, almost gentle, my hand coming up to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing her cheek. She kisses me back like she’s been holding her breath for days.
“I have to make arrangements,” I say. My voice sounds rough even to me. “Rest. Eat. Stay with Lily.”
