Her voice dips. “What do you mean by this whole thing?”
I keep staring outside.
“You wouldn’t,” she says quietly. Her hand grabs my arm, forcing me to look at her. “You wouldn’t,” she repeats, softer now.
I hold her gaze too long, and that’s answer enough.
Her face goes pale. “…You tried,” she whispers.
I exhale slowly. “Yeah.” The word lands heavy between us.
Her hand trembles against my arm. “Jax…”
I shrug, like it’s nothing. “Didn’t work. Nothing ever kills me when it should.”
Her other hand comes up, gripping my shirt now. “You idiot,” she breathes. “You absolute idiot.” She pulls me into her. I almost let myself lean into it, but anger’s easier than this. Much easier, because she cares, and I don’t know how to live with that.
“You would leave me alone here?” she snaps, pulling back. “In this shit hole? After everything?”
“Don’t you get it?” I fire back. “I’m the reason your life looks like this now. Since that fucking night, it’s all been?—”
“No.” She cuts me off. “You don’t get to turn that night into anything but you saving me. I won’t let you.”
“I—”
“I know you regret your bargain but?—”
I look straight at her. “I don’t regret it.”
She blinks. “What?”
“I’d do it all over again,” I say. “Every fucking time. To save you.” My jaw tightens. “I just… wish I could stay away. Every time I try, it’s like the fucking tar just drags me back.”
Her eyes narrow. “So The Pit brings you to me now?”
I laugh bitterly. “No. Yeah. I mean—no.”
She grabs the first thing within reach—a notebook from the coffee table—and hurls it at me. I stop the magic and let it smack my shoulder.
“Does the tar make you write all these poems too, Jax?” she shouts. “You know what? You are a fucking coward.”
I don’t move. She comes close and shoves me, hard. Again. And again.
“Say it!” she demands. “Say how you actually feel!” Her fists slam against my chest.
“Say you love me!” she screams. “Or say you don’t and let me finally move on!”
“You think this is easy for me?” I shoot back, my own voice rising. “Watching you walk straight into hell every time you decide to fix something broken? Knowing one day I won’t get there in time?”
“Do not change the subject! Tell me how you feel!”
“I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Because it would mean this… can work, and it can’t.” I choke out.
She looks at me. “You asked me to move in.”
