I hate having to have this conversation with her. She already made it clear last night that she’s not ready for anything more, and the last thing I want to do is make her feel pressured into a relationship with me.
The truth is, I’d wait forever for her. But I don’t know how to tell her that without freaking her out.
She bites her lip as she flicks her dark green eyes between mine. “I’m sorry, Remy. I’m just not ready.”
Stepping into her space, I capture her chin in one hand, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Lark. Not for not being ready or any of that nonsense. You don’t owe me or anyone else a damn thing, okay?”
She should never have to apologize to anyone for not feeling the same way about them—but especially not me.
“You’re a good guy, Remy,” she whispers.
My heart skips a beat at hearing that. I could give her a million reasons why I’m not, but I decide just to soak up the compliment for now. “And you’re a fantastic woman. You wannawalk around more? Watch this guy? Dip because Axel’s an asshole?”
Axel’s lucky he ran off when he did. My creature is still urging me to find him and rip out his throat for showing any interest in Lark, but hiding a body is a lot of work. And he’s been a good friend for over a decade.
She snorts. “I’d like to walk around more, if you still want to, that is.”
I huff a laugh. “Of course I want to.” Leading her over to the next stunter, I ask, “You know how to wheelie your bike?”
Shaking her head, she keeps her eyes on the guy riding in a circle on only his back tire. “I haven’t tried. I know how to wheelie my old dirt bike, although it’s been a while.”
I shove my free hand into my pocket. “You wanna learn?”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Now?”
Chuckling, I shrug. “Sure, why not?”
She’s shaking her head before I even finish. “I appreciate the offer, Remy, but I don’t think right now is the time. I really don’t want to fuck up my fairings, and I’d rather not crash and burn repeatedly in front of a bunch of people way more skilled than I’ll ever be.”
“That’s okay. Just don’t let fear stop you from doing things you want. Regret’s a hell of a lot harder to live with than the consequences of making mistakes.”
Fear keeps people from living, and that’s not what I want for Lark. I want her to learn from my mistakes and go after what she wants. Living life afraid isn’t really living at all.
“I know,” she tells me so quietly I can barely hear it. “You seem like you live in the moment and seize every opportunity. Is there anything you regret?”
My lips tip up into a sad smile. “Lots of things,alouette. Mostly letting down the people I love by being too scared to act,too wrapped up in my pain, or too immature to make the right decisions. You regret much?”
For her sake, I hope the answer is no. I hope she’s lived the kind of life filled with happiness and laughter and joy. But from the sadness perpetually lurking in her emerald eyes, I know that’s not the case.
She lets out a bitter laugh. “My whole life before the past seven months is just one big ball of regret. I’m trying to do better going forward, but I’m so fucking scared of making another mistake that I still feel paralyzed.”
I tilt my head as I examine her, trying to figure out what I can say to help her. “What changed?”
“I learned how much worse the consequences for inaction were than what I was originally scared of. All the fears and worries and considerations pale in comparison to what happened because I was too afraid to make a change. I’d give anything to be able to go back and just go for it.” Her voice breaks, and she tilts her face to the ground, eyes squeezed shut.
I can hear the pain in her voice, and it kills me. I’d do anything to take it away, but I don’t think there are any words I can say to make it better.
I know what it’s like to live with regrets that haunt your waking and sleeping thoughts.
“I’m sorry, love.” I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “As much as we want to, we can’t go back and change the past. All we can do is our best to learn from our mistakes and do different going forward. Sometimes that’s enough.”
Looking up at me through her long lashes, she cautiously asks, “And when it’s not?”
“Then you learn how to live with it. You learn how to keep putting one foot in front of the other, when all you want to do is lie down and give up. And I’m so fucking sorry you’ve had to learn that. I’d take it all away from you if I could,” I rasp.
She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Remy. If the offer’s still there, I think I’d like to try a wheelie or two tonight. No promises that I’ll actually do anything other than fuck up my bike, but I’ll try. And that counts for something, right?”
I grin at her, my chest puffing up with pride. I can see how much attempting a little stunting tonight scares her, but she’s still putting herself out there and trying. I couldn’t be prouder of her.
