“With you?”
“Yes. Well, with us.”
“Us?” She glances past him at the car. “Antaris is inside?”
“Sleeping,” Hiram confirms. “We could get out of town and come back with a plan.”
Veda studies him for a long moment before shaking her head. “What happened in your kitchen shouldn’t have happened. Itcan’thappen. Nothing changes the fact that I’mcursed, Hiram. There’s a reason I don’t let myself want. It’s unattainable. I don’t have a future. I’ve spent years living on the bare minimum because I know that it’ll end in a second, and I can’t get used to something that’ll be ripped away. I tried to have hope. I tried to be positive. I left your house thinking—it doesn’t matter, it put everything into perspective and made it clear that I need to go back to—”
“To what?” Hiram snaps. “Isolation in the greenhouse or your cottage or fortress, whatever you call it—and avoiding everyone who gives a damn about you?”
“Yes! Exactly that! Get used to me not being here, because I—” Veda falters, visibly struggling. Softer, she asks, “What happens when I die? Have you thought about that? Antaris is still grieving his mom, and losing me will send him spiraling backward. I know I started this by caring about him. He was drowning, I couldn’t let him, but I should have backed away as soon as you got your shit together. I shouldn’t have kept coming to your house, acting and pretending like everything is normal when it’s not. He’s a child. He can’t take too many hits. It’s better if I—”
“That isn’t something you get to decide without our input after making yourself integral to us!”
Veda’s eyes blow wide at his admission.
“Him,” Hiram amends weakly, then throws it all out in the open between them. “Fuck it—us. Him.Me.”
“Hiram ...” There’s disbelief in her whisper.
“Trust me, I’ve thought about running from you as much as I’ve thought about losing you. What will it do to Antaris? What will it do to me? I’m not willing to back away. I’m so fucking sick of running, of accepting things I want to change, of not arguing or fighting and just letting things happen. I meant what I said before. I’ll show you who I am, but I’ll do it by fighting for what I want. And that’syou.”
Veda is frozen. “What you want from me, I can’t give.”
“I know,” Hiram replies, soft and tentative. “But you think about it sometimes.”
When Veda says nothing, he takes a slow step toward her.
“You want to dream. Towant. Am I wrong?”
Veda remains defiant, resolute, until the cracks split wider. “I wasfinebefore Antaris. I was better beforeyou. But now ... I can see the people I’m going to miss, and hints of the life I won’t get to live. And I ...” She fights back tears. “I’m not fine. I’m fucking terrified, with toomany regrets I keep pretending are sacrifices. I’m sick of fighting for every single day and having to hold the pieces of myself together when I’m falling apart.”
“Thenrest.”
“Ican’t. I can’t be weak. I’m supposed to—”
“No one asked you to be strong.” Hiram takes another step. “Stop burdening yourself, you’re not alone. You have people who will be here in a second to do whatever you need. Don’t push us away.”
Veda looks away. “I ca—”
“Just because you can handle everything alone doesn’t mean you have to.” He’s close enough for his fingertips to skim her chin. “Share the weight, Veda. I’m strong enough to carry it.”
“And if we can’t figure this out?”
“Then we’ll prepare.”
She cracks more, a tear slipping down her cheek. A wet chuckle escapes. “You’re going to regret this.”
“I won’t.Wewon’t. Just don’t shut us out. Trust me.”
The air vibrates until her words cut through the silence like a knife. “You’re asking for a lot.”
“I know.”
“I’m not worth the trouble.”
“You are.Trust me.”
