He looked confused. I took a deep breath and said, “I don’t know how, but I think the dream was more like a memory. Your memory.”
Kessian went still. “What sort of memory?”
“A bad one. It was a breakup. Between you and a guy called Dom.”
He sucked in a breath and didn’t say anything for a long while. Then he said, “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“For Dominic, maybe,” I muttered.
“How much did you see?”
“Enough to know he was an arsehole.”
“No, I mean … what did you see? Exactly?”
Was there something in particular he really didn’t want me to? “He killed your plants, asked for breakup sex, then drove off without saying goodbye.”
Kessian let out a breath of relief.
“I take it those weren’t your happiest memories, but they weren’t the worst?”
He shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with it. On my own, I don’t have to worry if my partner can make the rent, or if he’s going to tell me he loves me, then twenty-four hours later pack up all his things and leave.”
“If you want to take a detour tomorrow, we can track him down and see if the wraith’s still hungry,” I said darkly.
He snorted a laugh. “Really. It’s fine. I’d rather be free to fuck who I want without the emotional turmoil attached.”
I tried to ignore the way my gut twisted. Well, that settled where we stood. I should have been relieved, but a yearning for true connection still played cat’s cradle with my heartstrings.
Kessian propped himself up on an elbow. “Have you ever had your heart broken, Tal?” When I took too long to answer, he said, “Really? Never?”
“My life hasn’t left room for long-term relationships.”
“I’d have thought a man with a face like yours would have had at least one runaway romance. Maybe in high school.”
“A face like mine?” I laughed ruefully.
“You look like the charming lab partner or librarian who’s somehow the last to realize everybody fancies him.”
He’d skillfully redirected the conversation away from the dream. I might have persisted, if only to question how I’d found myself insidehis memories in the first place, but there would be time for that in the morning, and I didn’t want to pick at his old wounds any more than I already had.
“I don’t know about that. And no. Even my one-night stands were rare. People usually find me abrasive.”
“They just haven’t gotten to know you.”
“Most people don’t get the time to.”
“What’s the longest stay you’ve ever risked?”
“A week. In the mountains, where there were more sheep than people. I don’t know if it counts.”
“And you didn’t keep in touch with your family?”
“Oh. Er …”
“There’s no judgment. I can’t remember the last time I heard from my mum. I just wondered.”
“You and your mum don’t talk either?”
