"Okay," she said softly. "Not here."
His shoulders loosened slightly. "Thank you."
"But we are talking. Tonight. After this is over."
He nodded once, short and sharp, then turned away to greet an approaching sponsor. Edie watched him paste on a polite smilethat didn't reach his eyes, watched him shake hands and make small talk, watched him perform the role of team captain with the mechanical precision of someone running on fumes.
And something in her chest cracked wide open.
What did we do to each other?
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of forced smiles and shallow conversation. Edie made the rounds, chatting with sponsors about the mural, accepting compliments on her work, pretending she didn't feel Tarmek's gaze tracking her every move.
Because she did.
Every time she glanced in his direction, his eyes were on her. Dark and hungry and lost, like she was a compass point and he'd forgotten which way was north.
By the time the event wound down, Edie's nerves were stretched so tight she felt like she might snap. She found herself standing by the coat check, watching the crowd thin out, counting the minutes until she could escape.
Until she could confront him.
A large hand closed around her elbow.
She knew it was Tarmek before she turned—knew from the size of his palm, the calluses on his fingers, the way her entire body came alive at his touch.
"Come with me."
It wasn't a request.
She went anyway.
He led her through a side door, down a hallway, into a small office that looked like it belonged to someone who ran community programs. Filing cabinets, motivational posters, a desk cluttered with paperwork. Tarmek closed the door behind them, and the click of the latch seemed impossibly loud in the sudden silence.
"Edie—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
The words burst out of her, raw and ragged, and Tarmek went very still.
"Tell you what?"
"That you didn't want me to leave. That you were—" She gestured at him, at the shadows under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders and the exhaustion carved into every line of his face. "That this was happening. You looked at me like I was killing you, Tarmek. Out there, just now—the whole night—you looked at me like..."
Like I was everything you wanted and couldn't have.
"I didn't know what to say."
"Anything! Say anything!" She was shaking now, her voice climbing towards hysteria. "You told me the camper was ready. Do you know what that sounded like? It sounded like please leave. It sounded like I'm done with this. It sounded like?—"
"I was trying to give you a choice."
"A choice between what? Staying where I wasn't wanted or leaving with a broken—" She cut herself off, turning away before he could see her face crumple. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"It matters."
His voice was closer now. She could feel the heat of him behind her, the massive presence that had once made her feel safe and protected. That she missed so desperately it was like a physical ache.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why does it matter if you don't want?—"
