He furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry, too. For...” He trailed off, blowing out his cheeks. “For everything. For how I’ve been behaving all week. I’ve been terrible.”
She looked down at her hands. “You have been,” she said. “But I’m sorry, too. I could tell you were upset but I kept provoking you.”
He shook his head. “Stop apologizing. Please.” He brought his hand to her chin, tilting her to face him. “I shouldn’t have been so easily provoked.”
“I only came out to Bayview today to ask Flint what had happened between you two,” she said, voice quiet. The mention of Flint made Luke’s temper spike, but he swallowed his anger.
“You could have asked me,” he said. Her dark eyes held complaint in them, and he winced.
“I couldn’t,” she said. “You were angry all week, and even before that, you stormed off and didn’t answer my question.” She looked away, and her next words were hardly a whisper. “Even though you said you would.”
She was right. Guilt needled through him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Again. For everything. Flint is just—the worst. He’s part of the gang that runs the dragon races.”
While it was the dragons that raced, it was the chimera owners who arranged the races and flew spectators up, at least the ones who didn’t have dragons of their own. No other animals participated in the races; griffins could just barely fly high up to the mountains where the races took place,and while chimeras could, they didn’t have the speed or aggression to race.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t know. But you’re right. Anyone involved in running the racing is someone to stay away from. Theirs is a whole different world. I remember my cousin Danny telling me as much when he used to race.”
“Flint is especially bad, so I react poorly whenever he’s concerned,” he said. “That’s not an excuse, it’s just...” He released a long sigh, then reached for her hand. “Em, I don’t want to fight anymore.”
It was true. He was either fighting her or himself, and he was tired of both. He was so tired.
“I don’t want to fight anymore, either,” she replied, squeezing his hand. Releasing a breath, she sat down, leaning against a stack of hay, and he sat down beside her, their shoulders pressed together.
She didn’t move away, and he relished the solid feel of her. He wanted to be her anchor, to be the thing she held onto when she was falling apart.
The hay was soft beneath them, comfortable even, and for the first time in a long time, he finally relaxed.
“Whyarewe fighting?” he asked. “I can’t remember anymore.”
She nibbled on her lower lip, and he watched her throat move as she swallowed. “Well, it all started when you broke Millie’s heart,” she said. The words were practiced, as if she reminded herself of them often, but her voice held no conviction.
“If it means anything, I never meant to,” he said. “I thoughtshe was great, but once I realized I wasn’t interested, I wanted to be clear so there was no misunderstanding.”
She played with the ends of her long hair. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “You never did it with any ill intent—not like I did. Everything I did, I did to hurt you.”
“You were just trying to take care of your little sister,” he said. “Anyone can see how much you’re willing to do for the ones you love.”
She turned to look at him. “It was still wrong.” Releasing her hair, she took a deep breath, then said, “Clean slate?”
He nodded. “Clean slate.”
Her eyes softened, as if she was finally relaxing, now, too. Their gazes were locked, and it felt like the beginning of a book he knew would become his favorite story.
He was seeing a new side of her now, true vulnerability, and he could see she was frightened by it, but she didn’t look away. She stared into his eyes just as intently, and he thought he could drown in the dark depths of her eyes. They were such a dark shade of black it was hard to tell where her pupils began and ended, and he inched closer, staring, losing all sense of time and place. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and his heartbeat quickened.
Carefully, he lifted his hand, bringing it up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered in her hair, his thumb grazing against her cheekbone. His chest ached.
She leaned into his touch, turning her cheek into his palm. Heat spread through him. Her lips brushed against his skin, sending sparks skittering through him.
Her gaze flicked to his mouth, and her lidded eyes made his stomach twist with desire.
She pulled back, then settled against his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. He lowered a little so she could be more comfortable, resting his head against hers.
He remembered what she had said once, about how she couldn’t lose. It was why she was so cautious.
He finally understood a bit more of why she was resisting their connection, despite how obvious it felt between them. And it was okay; he didn’t want to push her. He just wanted her to know that if she bet on him, she wouldn’t lose.
They stayed like that for some time—until there was knocking on the barn door. Before Luke could respond, the door opened and Farhan entered.
