“Thank you,” she says quietly.
“For what?”
“For not making me feel stupid.”
I shift toward her so that I can see her pretty face.
“Greer,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend it to be. “You are not stupid. Not even a little.”
Her eyes shine, and she looks away quickly, blinking hard. “I always feel I’m missing a few pieces to the puzzle,” she admits. “Pieces everyone else has.”
“You’re not just smart—you’re driven. You might be a little behind, but that’s not your fault. You had a lot on your shoulders, and your parents depended on you when they should have been helping you.”
“What if I never pass the test?”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep taking care of you.”
The words hang between us, heavy and irrevocable.
Her eyes search my face like she’s afraid of what she might find there.
The room feels smaller. Warmer. Charged.
“Kellan,” she murmurs.
I shouldn’t lean closer.
I do.
Her lips part slightly, her gaze dropping to my mouth before snapping back up. The space between us shrinks to nothing.
I can feel her breath on my skin.
I’m so close, I could kiss her.
But that’s not fair. It’s not why she’s here, and the last thing I want to be in her life is another person taking advantage of her.
I pull back abruptly, standing so fast that the chair scrapes loudly against the floor.
“I should—” I rake my fingers through my hair. “It’s late.”
Her face falls. “Oh.” She nods. “I can study in my room.”
The word sounds like surrender.
Guilt coils tight in my chest.
She gathers her books and starts toward the bedroom, pausing in the doorframe. “You won’t send me away, will you?”
The fear in her voice cuts deep.
“No,” I say immediately.
She exhales, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Good night, Kell.”
“Good night, Greer.”
She disappears into her room, leaving me cold and hollow.
