Talon’s throat works. He nods once, slow.
“I’m gonna mirror it now, yeah?” he mumbles.
“No,” I say. “Spill it out.”
“What?”
“Tell me how you feel about her,” I say.
“But the rules—“
“Yeah, fuck the rules.”
For a second, he opens his mouth and stops playing with my fingers. Then he takes a deep breath.
“Man, why the hell did you even tell me the rules then?” He narrows his eyes. “Do you know how hard I focused not to fuck up?”
I can’t help it, I smile. And then the stress hits again, sharp and immediate.
I don’t want to smile. I want an answer.
“How do you feel about Rhea?” I ask. “Not what she’s done to me, or that she came back. Overall. What do you feel about her?”
He looks me straight in the eye, like he’s checking if I really mean it. Then he looks at the ceiling and slumps back, resting against the sofa more heavily than before.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, then looks at me again.
“No,” I say.
“Seeing her is like… seeing an old friend,” he says. “She died before I knew anything about the supernatural shit. She’s like… from another world. The world before, you know? So I can’t really wrap my mind around it. The fact that she was just here, talked to us, and has some problem with you. It’s all surreal. I don’t know how it happened.”
He lifts his gaze to the ceiling again, blinking hard, like the light hurts.
“And also, remember how I told you I killed her killers?” he adds. “Seeing her made me reflect on stuff. Honestly, stuff I wish I didn’t. Back then, when I thought I’d caught those fuckers, I was seeing red. All that mattered to me was killing them. I was asking questions about Rhea.Where is she? What did they do to her?And something about their reactions made me think they were mocking me. But I had them at fucking gunpoint, and it didn’t even cross my mind that they might be telling the truth.”
He drags a hand over his face, then looks at me.
“How do I feel about Rhea? I think she’s a reminder of a lot of bad shit I’ve done. Mistakes and bad memories. Like the fact that I didn’t hold a funeral for her. Yeah. You know, I didn’t. Even after finding out about Grim Reapers and shit, I still didn’t. I just… put it all behind me.”
He resumes playing with my hands again, running his thumbs over my knuckles, tendons, nails, watching all the curves and edges.
“You have no reason to be jealous, okay?” he murmurs. “I told you I didn’t love her back then, and I certainly don’t love her now. I just… I feel like shit.”
I swallow.
Suddenly, I feel stupid for asking.
“Hey.” I squeeze his hand. “Look at me.” He does. “I love you. You have a past. We all do.”
His mouth twitches, almost a real smile.
“Say it again,” he murmurs.
“We all have a past,” I repeat.
“Not that,” he chuckles.
Right.
