‘As if I would let that happen.’
She threw an elbow into him. ‘Let me go.’
He pinned her to him and brought his mouth to her ear. ‘Not until you tell me what the hell is going on in that head of yours.’ She doubled her efforts to free herself, but he held tight. ‘Stop it.’
‘Let go!’
‘Not until you talk to me.’
She struggled for a full minute before going limp against him, her breaths coming fast. Only then did he relax his grip on her. The moment he did, her hands went over her face, and he froze up.
‘Are you… crying?’
‘No.’ Her voice cracked.
He pulled her hands away from her face and turned her to him. His stomach twisted when he saw her tears. ‘Shit. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.’
She looked up at the roof in an attempt to stop crying. ‘You can’t fix it.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
She licked a tear from her lip and met his gaze. ‘We have tomorrow. Then I leave the next morning.’
He stared at her. ‘So this isn’t about the merchants not having a creek?’
‘Not entirely,’ she admitted. ‘Though my point stands.’
He let go of her and leaned back on his hands, finally understanding. ‘What happened to an amicable separation?’
‘Well, you know what they say: the more time you spend together, the higher the chance of forming an attachment,’ she said, quoting him.
‘Do you think picking a fight with me will make the separation easier?’
‘No.’ She swallowed. ‘Maybe. I don’t know.’
She was right. He could not fix this. She had to go back to her family, and he had to go back to the barracks. ‘What do you want to do? Want me to take you home in the morning?’
Her face collapsed. ‘How is that better?’
‘It’s better than fighting.’ He was no good at this stuff. ‘Better than being blamed for all the merchants’ problems.’
When she went to draw back from him, he pulled her onto his lap and rested his forehead on her shoulder. He was not ready to be pushed away—not yet. That would happen soon enough.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered.
She sniffed. ‘I lied to you.’
He lifted his head. ‘What about?’
She hesitated. ‘About the extent of my feelings.’
He returned his forehead to her shoulder and fought hard against the words on the edge of his tongue. Releasing them would only make the separation worse. Besides, there were other words he needed to say first.
I killed your brother.
Those words seemed more native from the mouth of a defender than “I love you”.
‘Can we pretend this conversation never happened?’ she asked, hand going to his face.
