“He’s protectin' ye,” Ailis said. “In his own twisted way, he thinks keepin' ye at a distance is safer. For both of ye.”
“But it’s nae safe,” Leona whispered. “It’s lonely. And cold. And I cannae live like that. I cannae marry someone who willnae let me in, who sees carin' as a weakness rather than a strength.”
Silence fell between them. Ailis still held Leona’s hand, her grip warm and comforting. Kristen watched with troubled eyes.
“What if I told ye,” Ailis said slowly, “that despite everythin', despite all his walls and his fears, I think me brother cares for ye more than he’s willin' to admit?”
“Maybe ye’re right,” Leona said. “But I need more than just scraps of affection, even when he thinks I’m nae paying attention.”
“Aye,” Kristen agreed. “Ye deserve more than that. The question is whether ye’re willin' to wait for him to figure out how to give it.”
“I’ve been waitin',” Leona said. “I’ve been patient. I’ve tried to show him that love doesnae have to be destructive, that carin' about someone doesnae mean losin' yerself. But he willnae listen. He’s so convinced that…” She stopped, not sure how to finish.
“That he’ll become someone he’s nae?” Ailis suggested gently.
Leona nodded.
“He’s carried that fear for a long time,” Kristen said. “Since he was young. Since before…” She glanced at Ailis, who gave a small nod. “Since before a lot of things happened that showed him what power could do when wielded without care.”
“But he’s nae that person,” Leona said desperately. “He’s gentle with Skye. Patient with his people. He’s nothin' like…” She paused. “Like whatever he’s afraid of becomin'.”
“We ken that,” Ailis said. “Ye ken that. But he doesnae. Nae yet. Nae fully.”
“Then how do I make him see it?” Leona asked. “How do I convince him that he’s allowed to be happy? That lovin' someone willnae destroy them both?”
“I daenae ken,” Ailis admitted. “I wish I did. But our brother is stubborn. Once he’s decided somethin', changin' his mind is like tryin' to move a mountain with yer bare hands.”
“He’s nae always been like this, though,” Kristen added thoughtfully. “When we were young, before… Well, before things got difficult, he used to laugh more. Used to believe in things like hope and happiness.”
“What changed?” Leona asked.
“Life,” Kristen said simply. “Responsibility. Loss.” She paused. “Fear.”
“Fear of what, exactly?” Leona pressed. “What is he so afraid of? He told me his father wasnae the best of men, but--”
Ailis opened her mouth to respond, but a deep voice from the doorway interrupted.
“Ye should put those questions to me.”
25
Leona’s head snapped toward the doorway where he stood, his broad frame filling the entrance, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that stole her breath.
He looked different. Raw, exposed, as if the careful walls he maintained had finally cracked.
Ailis and Kristen exchanged glances, a wordless conversation passing between them. Then Ailis stood, crossing to Leona and squeezing her shoulder gently.
“We’ll leave ye to talk,” she said softly, her voice warm with understanding. “But Leona? He’s worth the effort. I promise ye that.”
“Ailis,” Murdock warned, but there was no real heat in it.
“I’m goin'', I’m goin.” Ailis patted Leona’s shoulder once more, then swept past her brother, with Kristen following close behind.
As Kristen passed Murdock, she paused just long enough to murmur something Leona couldn’t hear. Whatever it was made Murdock’s jaw clench tighter.
Then the door closed, and they were alone.
The silence stretched between them, heavy and fraught with everything unsaid. Leona stood near the window, her hands clasped together to hide their trembling.
