"So what are you going to do about it?" Saela asks.
"I don't know. What if he doesn't want me anymore? What if I hurt him too badly?"
"Ressa." Saela takes both my hands, her grip firm and grounding. "That male is absolutely miserable without you. Trust me—if you show up and tell him the truth, he'll listen."
"But what if I panic again? What if I wake up scared and push him away and keep doing it until he's had enough?"
"Then you talk to him about it," Shae says. "You tell him what you're afraid of. You let him help you through it instead of facing it alone."
"That's what partnership means," Saela adds. "Not being perfect. Just being honest about your fears and working through them together."
I want to believe them. Want to believe I can have this—can have Falla and safety and love without my trauma destroying it all.
But the fear still sits heavy in my chest, whispering that I'll fuck it up again. That I'm not strong enough or healed enough or brave enough to deserve him.
"What if I'm not ready?" My voice comes out small. "What if I need more time?"
"Then you tell him that." Saela squeezes my hands. "But you don't run. You don't hide. You give him the truth and let him decide if he wants to wait."
"He'll wait," Shae says with certainty. "That male would wait years if that's what you needed."
The conviction in her voice makes something crack in my chest—some wall I've been maintaining through sheer force of will. Tears finally spill over, hot against my cold cheeks.
"I love him," I whisper. "And that terrifies me."
"I know." Saela pulls me into a hug, her arms strong and familiar. "But you're brave enough to be terrified and still choose him anyway."
"Am I?"
"You survived the Stonevein," she says fiercely. "You can survive being in love."
20
FALLA
Four days.
Four days since Ressa thanked me for being a good partner like I was some hired help she'd dismissed after a job well done. Four days since I walked out of her cabin with my chest feeling like someone had taken a blade to it. Four days of existing in this hollow space where everything feels muted and wrong.
I'm not angry with her. Can't be, not when I understand exactly what happened. She'd been through hell—months of captivity, torture, violations I can only imagine in my worst nightmares. And I'd pushed her too far, too fast. Let her believe she was ready for intimacy when clearly she needed more time to heal.
I should have been more careful. Should have insisted we wait, no matter how much she said she wanted me.
The guilt sits heavy alongside the ache of missing her.
I reorganize the same shelf of supplies for the third time this morning, my hands needing something to do. The healing house feels too quiet without her presence, without the possibility of her appearing for another check-in. I've avoided leaving thesewalls since that morning. No point in going out when the only person I want to see has made it clear she doesn't want to see me.
"Still moping?"
Kai's voice makes me turn. He's leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, that knowing look on his face that's been irritating me for days now.
"I'm working."
"You're hiding."
"I'm giving her space." I set down the bandage roll I've been holding. "Like she asked for."
"Right. Because that's working so well for both of you." He moves further into the room, his ice-blue eyes assessing. "You look like shit, by the way."
