I nod, scratching my chin as if it’s no big deal. “Definitely not.”
“I shouldn’t have pushed you. Pain and fear were running high, and I used you—or tried to—to make myself feel better. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Gee, I never would have known that without you saying it.
I shrug, familiar with this end of the cycle. “No, but luckily, I didn’t let you. There’s no reason for us to have a problem. You stayed away from the nasty stuff. It pissed me off, but once I realized what you were doing, I stopped it. I can’t fault you; I’ve done it before. No worries.”
He growls in frustration. “I don’t feel the ‘no worries’ part.”
“Are you going to brood about it? Really, I’m okay.”
I am, but only because I knew how to mitigate the harm.
“I’m not, for fuck’s sake!” he snarls. “I’m furious that I went that far with you to begin with. To top it all off, it rips at my gut to hear you talk about what happened before us. Added to that, my wife went ape shit, Talia stormed off, and all of us are not where we should be—which is together!”
I run my hand over my eyes, propping myself up to look at him. “I don’t know how to help. I’m not mad or holding a grudge. I shouldn’t have brought up the past, but it was necessary. We’re not all together, but it will get better. I have faith in that.”
“I hate what you did to yourself, and I hate you for keeping the scars from it. It’s not that it hurts like hearing about past relationships. That hurts differently.” He turns and throws his legs over the arm of the chair arm. “It’s like you haven’t healed and you won’t ever heal. That’s wrong, I think. To go on in life, to be whole… you have to heal. I felt like I kidded myself into thinking that I was helping with your healing. I thought Talia and I were enough to help you be whole.”
I look at my hands. “You have. There are things I can’t forget. I have been healing—more than I can say—and you’d feel it if I wasn’t.”
“Today I found out no one’s healed from anything. Sandwich’s got gaping wounds—not the ones she won’t let me see—but ones on the surface. You’ve got scars on your back and in other places. Talia’s got a fair issue or a thousand with guilt. Satan knows if I could push you like I did today, if I wanted a beating that badly, something is off in me, too.”
I stay quiet as I listen to him, understanding that he needs this rant to process.
“How would I know if you weren’t healing, Sampson? I’m not an empath. Even if I was, I wouldn’t delve into people without their permission.”
“We’ve connected inside a time or two. Maybe not like you and the cat do, but I think you’d feel it like you did the first time. I don’t think the woman knew how much this community defection was eating at her. The way they’re objectifying her paired with any other trauma of the past? It’s not surprising that it set her off. I don’t know what you’re carrying, but?—”
Snorting, he leans his head back. “That ‘but’ almost destroyed us forever. That’s no big deal, though, right? Pairs like us are a dime a dozen, yeah?”
Damn it, he’s determined to make this about him, and it’s so damn familiar.
“That’s not what I said! I don’t believe that you’d do what it would have taken to get me to hit you. I didn’t rise to your bait. I was pretty sure that you wouldn’t hurt Blade, and I was damned sure you wouldn’t kill me. You destroyed nothing.”
His voice is a low, painful whisper. “I almost flat-out decked you. I almost took your sodding head off.”
I chuckle. “My head would have stayed on my shoulders. I might have been bruised and battered, but not destroyed. Just because I don’t fight much doesn’t mean I couldn’t have taken it.”
“Christ, you’re a stubborn stoat.” He grins a tiny bit.
“I’ve been told that once or twice. The only thing that punch would have done was swell my pretty face. I would have gotten over it because you would have apologized. Apologizing is all anyone can ask when something bad happens.”
He chuckles again. “And people say I have a sodding ego… your pretty face, huh?”
I had to say something to bring him out of his self-imposed K-hole, didn’t I?
Blinking, I bat my lashes at him, looking pouty on purpose. “Are you saying it’s not? I’m hurt, Simba.”
“Please. Anyone with eyes in their head knows that I’m much prettier than you.”
Sticking my finger in my mouth, I pretend to gag. Of course, I know he’s hot as fuck and I’m no slouch. We’re cloned to be that way, so it’s not like it’s really ego as much as a biological fact.
“Says the clone who needs glasses for detailed work.”
Looking peeved, I grumble at him. “You wear a pair occasionally. I hate the bloody things, but they make me look very studious, I’ve been told.” I reach under the nightstand and pull out a sketchpad to toss at him. “Four pages in.”
Taurus flips through and his eyes widen. “Who sodding spilled that?” I watch him eyeball the picture of him working on the couch, bespectacled and intent, with a folder of reports. “My wife! I knew it.”
