Lonely.
And aching for a man I'd just told to leave me alone.
It hurt. It hurt so much I wanted to scream. Instead, I curled up on the new rug, blanket over my shoulders, Klaus tucked into one side, Axel on the other. Safe. Warm. Fed. And watched them play. And pretended for one night that there had been no war. That this wasn't a ruin but a home.
My mind was in turmoil. He must have brought all this while I was at work, like he had done every night this week. After I told him to leave us alone. After! The tears were threatening seriously now. It took a herculean effort, but I swallowed them back down. The boys were so happy, I didn't want to ruin it. I had ruined enough tonight.
What was I supposed to do now?
Berlin — July 17, 1948, Saturday
I'd been angry before.War angry. Pilot angry. Losing-my-brothers angry.
But none of that held a candle to the fury I felt when Inga spat those words at me through the gate.
I'll never sleep with you. I'll never have sex with you.
Like that's what I wanted.
Well, you do, my conscience nagged.
That wasn't the point, and that wasn't why I was doing these things.
Like I was some bastard lined up at her door with ration cards and demands. No, you're notthatguy, I assured myself.
I'd never been insulted like that, not even by Germans during the war, and hell, I'd dropped bombs on them. My blood had gone white-hot. My vision had tunneled, agrowl had crawled up my throat, and if there hadn't been a gate between us, I don't know what I would've done.
Probably kissed her and proved her right.
It had taken some time, but eventually I cooled off. Enough for the first rational thoughts to enter my head. Slowly, the truth started to creep in.Shedoesn'tknow you, that much was true.
I swooped in like some kind of hero, dragon shifter, soldier, protector, whatever the hell I thought I was, and expected her to just… fall? Trust me? Because I brought food? Because I fixed a few planks of wood? Because I scared off some kids?
Christ.
I'd walked her home twice. Maybe three times if I counted the alley night. But every time had ended with me playing the big savior. Big shoulders. Big bravery. Big ego.
Not once did I give her space to actually know me. Not Gideon the man.
Just Gideon the rescuer. So whose fault was her misunderstanding?
Mine.
That truth had sat like a stone in my stomach. Made it impossible not to think about the other parts of what she'd said:What is the price I'll have to pay?
The idea that she'd thought I'd demand her body—that I'd take everything she had left—It hollowed me out.
The dragon went silent. Even he didn't know how to answer that. So instead of sulking or drinking myself numb with Carter, I'd done what I'd been doing all week. I went to see the kids. When I showed up with another bundle—bread, fruit, powdered milk, a mess-hall sandwich—Klaus's eyes lit up. Axel nodded once, his version of thanks. Their faith in me felt like a weight and a blessing.
That night, while the boys sat cross-legged on the rug—I still couldn't believe we'd gotten a rug into that ruin—I crouched and asked, slowly, "Klaus—Inga. Lieblingsblumen? Favorite flowers?"
Klaus blinked.
Axel blinked.
They exchanged confused glances.
"Blumen?" I repeated, miming holding a bouquet.
