“You’re not an idiot.”
Her eyes flashed as she raised her head. “Carver, you’re my partner on this assignment. I can’t kiss you. I can’t like you. I can’t do anything but protect you and do everything in my power to accomplish our assignment.”
She was right, but his resolve against their relationship crumbled the moment she pressed her lips to his. All he wantedwas to resume that moment. No matter how foolish, no matter what the cost. “Why can’t it be both?”
She scoffed, “Uh, I don’t know. Maybe because you abandoned me? You broke up with me for absolutely no reason. I walked into the Vipers section broken, wondering what I did that was so bad you couldn’t stay with me, assuming that even with everything I had done to prove I was strong, somehow you still only saw me as weak.”
His heart plummeted. How is that the way she saw what happened? “That’s not true. I was trying to protect you. Everything I’ve ever done was to protect you.”
“So you’ve said. I don’t believe you.” Her words were curt. Precise.
He didn’t have a response. There were no words he could offer to prove his sincerity. A broken promise was all it took to shatter words, and he knew he couldn’t easily come back from that past mistake.
“We should get back to the festival.” With that, she turned and walked out of the alley.
Carver took a deep breath, attempting to cool himself off from the heated moment and the painful conversation after. He would do anything to erase the past. She was right, he couldn’t protect her. And he wasn’t sure she needed his protection anymore anyway.
She had joined onlookers at another stand, and he sidled up behind her without a word.
39CLARA
The rest of the day passed without another incident. She tried to ignore the fact she kissed him–ignore the surge in her chest every time she looked at him. She wanted to chalk it up to a mistake, a lapse of judgment, over-exhaustion, anything that would prove it wasn’t something she actually wanted. Unfortunately for her, part of her remained rebellious to all of her reasoning. Her logical excuses couldn’t quite prevail over the desire to kiss him again.
He fell asleep much faster than she did, and the sound of his breathing frustrated her even more. It wasn’t fair he could sleep so easily on the floor (he said she could have the bed; she decided picking a fight wouldn’t end well), and she couldn’t fall asleep no matter how she tried.
After tossing and turning for a few minutes, she slipped out of the room. With no direction in mind, she ended up in the kitchen and decided a cup of hot tea might help enough that she could sleep.
She filled the kettle and turned the stove on. Then she leaned over the sink, stretching her shoulders and wondering what was wrong with her. After everything, how could she still care about him as much as she did? Because that was the damning reality.
She still cared. She still loved him. Somewhere under all of the callouses. Under all the bad memories of the last few years. That flame had never gone out, and now he was here. The proximity was stifling, causing the debris to be pulled away and proving that the fire was still there.
“Can’t sleep either?” She hadn’t heard the footsteps behind her, but years of practice still kept her from startling as Marsh entered the kitchen.
Clara turned, “Long day.”
“That’s an understatement.” Marsh slid into a chair at the table, her robe untied as she leaned back and relaxed. “Boil enough water for me to have a cup as well?”
Clara nodded, and when the kettle screamed, took it off and poured the two cups of tea.
“So,” Marsh gingerly took a sip of tea, “You and Carver.”
“Me and Carver, what?” Clara asked calmly, hoping this conversation wasn’t headed the direction it seemed to be.
“You have history?” She asked the question gently, nosy but pretending not to be.
“That’s an understatement.” Clara smiled lightly, and Marsh did the same at the reference to her earlier phrase.
“What happened?”
“Ah, you know. Men and their commitment issues.” Clara tried to shrug it off, but even those words felt like salt in an open wound.
“Really.” Marsh deadpanned. She leaned back in her chair and took another sip of tea. “He doesn’t read like the one who would have commitment issues.”
“What are you implying?” Clara’s defenses rose, and though part of her knew it wasn’t fair, the other part was shouting that Marsh had no right to ask her any of these kinds of questions.
“I’m not implying anything.” Marsh shrugged, “No offense, but you seem far more likely to be the one with commitmentissues. You walk around with like a million walls up; I don’t even think I’ve seen you smile outside of when you’re ‘in character.’”
“I’m an assassin.” Clara deadpanned, “What do you expect me to smile about?”
