I had no idea how I knew that when the knock at the door came, it wasn’t Ivy, but some inherent sense told me that it was Caden. A disconcerting mix of anticipation and dread surfaced in me. I wanted to see him, yet I didn’t—the latter for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because Iwantedhim to be here.
I wanted him to be here for me, and that was wrong. I knew that, and I still wanted it, which was one of the reasons heshouldn’tbe here.
And the other reason? I knew how he was likely going to look at me. After seeing what I looked like and then throwing up my guts, I really didn’t want to face his mournful gaze.
Caden entered, and I focused on either his chest or his legs. He’d changed. Gone was the black shirt, replaced by a pale blue one, though his jeans were still dark. Maybe he’d showered, too.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, stopping just inside the doorway.
“Better.” I fiddled with the bedspread, finding a stray thread and tugging at it. “The shower really helped. Now I just need to get the million knots out of my hair.”
“Do you think you can eat something?”
My empty stomach rumbled despite my praying to the porcelain gods for a small eternity earlier. “I think so.”
“Good.” I saw his legs move back toward the doorway, and then he returned, carrying a tray.
I sat up gingerly. Or at least I started to sit up, but the stiffness around my ribs protested once more.
“Here.” The King placed the tray on a small table that sat behind the couch. “Let me help.” He reached for me—
My body recoiled as it had been trained to do when hands that could become claws or fists got too close. I tried to stop it, but it was a reflex beyond my control.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Caden said.
“I know.” I closed my eyes and then opened them. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t, Brighton. Remember?” His voice was soft. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Okay?”
I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“Do you want me to help you sit up, or do you want to do it yourself?” he asked. “I’m hoping you’ll let me because I don’t want to see you in pain.”
I glanced at him and saw that all those thick, golden strands were pulled back from his face, and the whole situation struck me as funny even if I didn’t laugh.
The King of all the Summer fae was serving me soup in bed.
Weird.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told him, lifting my gaze to his face. His expression was devoid of any emotion. “You don’t owe me—”
“Did you forget that I can scent your emotions?” Caden interrupted, and Christ, I sort of had. “That I know what you’re feeling? That I knew the whole time I was in here earlier?”
“Okay. Do you want a gold sticker or something? The kind with a little smiley face on it?”
He cracked a grin. “God, how I missed your attitude.”
I frowned.
“I know you think I’m here because I feel guilt or a responsibility to you. I don’t even have to have my ‘super special fae abilities’ to know that. You said it, but I can feel it. Your distrust of my motives, and your fear that I pity you is like burnt rubber.”
My frown started to increase. “Now I really do feel like I need to apologize for offending your sensitive nostrils.”
One eyebrow cocked. “I need you to understand something, Brighton. I’m here right now because I want to be. I’m here because I need to be—let me finish,” he said when I opened my mouth. “That need is not drawn from some sense of guilt or remorse. Don’t get me wrong, I feel a whole lot of that, but it is not what drives my actions.”
“Then what does?” I challenged, feeling the prickle of irritation, which was far better than anything else I was feeling. I latched on to it, wrapping the anger around me like the fuzziest, softest blanket. “You’re engaged, Caden. Something you failed to tell me before you fucked me, both literally and figuratively.”
“I did not fuck you. Not literally. You did not fuck me.”
