“What?”
A tear falls. “I don’t want to cause problems for you or make people assume things you don’t want them to. I can almost start a fire on my own, and I’m pretty sure I have enough saved up to get a better bed. That’s all that really matters right now.”
“Not to mention that there’s plenty of storage,” he mumbles.
I sniff. “Yeah. Plenty.”
He closes a foot of the space between us, reaches for my face, and swipes away my tear. “Absolutely not. I’d rather be the one to live in that old farmhouse if all the nonsense Ines spouted has made you uncomfortable with the way we’ve been living.” His gaze jolts to his hand, then he drags his fingers off me, planting them in the foot of space between us. “I don’t care if everyone thinks we’re together or I’m in love with you, Citrus. I care about the possibility I’ve been selfish.”
“Selfish?” I whisper.
He nods. “You’re so different to my brain. I’m taking advantage of the peace you bring me. It’s not right to keep you this close. I’m never going to havesomeone. You will. And then you’ll have to explainmeto them. That’s not fair to you.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“You’ll fall in love, move out to be with them, make some kind of life together. And I’ll be here. Still. Like I was before you came.” He sinks his fingers into his hair, gripping the roots. “I need to stop relying on you as though you’re actually my wife. Nes is right.What am I doing?”
Panic swells, beating against my heart, as terror latches around my throat.
I don’t want to lose what we have.
Ilikewhat we have.
The quiet of it is so…so…gentle. Kind. Life-giving.
The ability to rely on someone else, so completely, is a gift, and it’s one I’ve never had before.
No one else will ever be so familiar.
No one else will ever feel so safe.
“Do you…not want a real wife?” I ask around the bundle of nerves strangling me.
He laughs, acerbically. Shaking his head, he says, “I don’t think I’m supposed to be loved like that, Citrus.”
My heart breaks. “Why not?”
His shoulders rise and fall. “Even your game didn’t make me an option.”
“But…do youwantto be an option?”
He lets his hand fall back through his hair to rub his neck. Leaning against the couch cushions, he blows out a breath. “I can’t picture it. I don’t know what it looks like to love someone and be loved by them without pressure or fear or selfishness getting in the way. I can’t imagine what it feels like to be someone’s…partner.” His eyes close. “The people I care about don’t know I do, because I don’t know how to show it, because even though I care about them, I don’t feel safe enough to go out of my way to prove it. They don’t make me feel the way…the wayyoudo.” His eyes open, find me, linger. Watching, cautious, he says, “The first time we went to the mines, I thought I’d be protecting you, but you launched yourself headfirst into everything, barely giving me the chance to help. Your confidence and kindness has baffled me from that first moment, and I figured it had to be a plot, and you weren’t telling the truth, but even your devious plans were ultimately harmless and endearing. Your willingness to step forward without hesitation…scares me. I can’t stop seeing you like a mirror. I can’t stop thinking that you would have heard Aurelia’s scream and charged, just like I did that night on the outskirts of the city. Because even though people terrify you, too, that doesn’t stop you from trying to reach them.” His lips part. “Even though you weren’t raised in a world that gave you any reason to believe you’d ever get back what you give, that doesn’t stop you…from loving everything around you.”
While I’m stuck on where he implied I possessconfidence, he freezes.
Thoughts run over his face as his attention flicks across me in my blanket bundle. His throat bobs. His eyes widen. His mouth opens. It stays open for almost an entire minute, or maybe it justfeels that long because of how fast my heart is beating. When he finally composes himself, it’s like a lightning strike. His mouth closes, and he’s on his feet. “Sorry,” he breathes. “I’m rambling while you don’t feel well.”
“Oh, no. It’s okay. I—”
He dodges Yami to scoop me up off the couch, blanket and all. Rocking me against his broad chest, he turns on his heel and heads for his room—which I hope means we’re sleeping together again. I won’t survive the night if he tucks me in then promptly heads to camp it out in my farmhouse.
“Samson, I’m fine, promise. The medicine is magic, probably literally.”
“Where’d you put your mug?” he asks, setting me down in bed.
“Um, on the floor by the couch.”
He nods, sharp. “Do you want more tea?”
