“Won’t... change.” The words were barely audible, scraped raw from his throat.
“You can’t know that.”
“Can.” Definitive. No room for argument despite the damaged rasp.
“How?”
His thumb traced my lower lip. His gaze dropped to my mouth. Heat flickered in those green eyes. Want mixed with something deeper. Something that made my breath seize.
He leaned down slowly. Giving me time to pull away.
I didn’t.
His lips brushed mine. Soft. Questioning. Different from this morning’s possessive claiming or last night’s desperate frenzy.
This was a promise. Sealed without words because words had failed him.
I kissed him back. Let myself fall into it. Let the fear recede for just a moment.
When we finally pulled apart, my hands were fisted in his shirt. His forehead rested against mine. Both of us breathing hard.
“I need time to think.”
Pain flickered across his face. But he nodded.
He reached for the notepad. Wrote: How much time?
“I don’t know.” I stepped back. His hands fell away. “I... I need to process this. All of it. Emma, Maeve, the fact that you’re dying and I might not be strong enough to watch it happen.”
“Are.” One word. Absolute certainty in that broken rasp.
“You don’t know that.”
“Do.” Just as certain.
“I’m going to take a walk. Clear my head. I’ll be back.”
Xavier’s jaw tightened. He wrote: It’s dark. Cold. Not safe.
“I’ll stay on the grounds. Won’t go far.” I grabbed my coat from the chair. “I just need... space. To breathe. To think.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. His hand reached for the notepad again.
Then stopped.
His shoulders sagged slightly. Defeat in the line of his spine.
He nodded. Stepped aside.
I walked past him. Felt his eyes tracking every movement.
My hand was on the doorknob when I heard the rasp behind me.
“Clare.”
Just my name. Broken. Raw.
I didn’t turn around. Couldn’t.
