“I think you should go to your room.” He started to draw back, but I held him tighter.
I could feel his crushing depression. It sucked at his will and tore away any thought of relief. This—his shaking body, tears, his words—was the lowest I’d ever seen him. And despite everything, I feared that if I released him, he wouldn’t be there in the morning.
And that, with or without the guardian bond, I would never allow.
“You told me you’d give me anything I wanted—a sliver, the moon, anything. Remember?” I said, tears streaking down my face.
They weren’t for him, but for me. This messy situation, and everything in between.
“I want to see your face every morning and night. To see there is still breath in your lungs. That is my moon. That is what I want.”
He didn’t answer, and my stomach plummeted. Shockwaves of invasive urgency flew through me, prompting me to act.
I shoved him upright, forcing him to meet my eyes. “You owe me this. After everything you’ve done, this is what it’ll take for me to consider forgiving you.”
Immediately, shame flooded our bond, feeding off my frustration.
“You shouldn’t forgive me.”
The wordtruesat on the tip of my tongue, ready to punish him once again. Instead, I did one of the hardest things I’d ever done and let it go.
I quickly shucked off my uniform, leaving me in lightweight pants and a long-sleeve shirt, then grabbed his hands, pulling him up with me.
Oliver’s bed stretched as wide as mine and had just as many red pillows. But unlike throwing them off the bed or placing them at the head, Aspen had them lined right next to his rumpled side. One of the longer ones looked as if it still held the impression of his arm, like the only thing he had in his life was a pillow to hug.
He assumed he lost me. He saw nothing to live for. He thought no one cared.
But even hurt and angry, I still did.
Gathering myself, I wiped my eyes and shoved his pillows away like they’d personally offended me. Then I climbed into his bed and tugged on his hand.
He stared at me with a wary expression. “Lucille?—”
“Don’t. Just come here.”
This wasn’t about us. This wasn’t a romantic gesture. I needed him to see I still cared. If he sought out answers, I wouldn’t be able to givehim any. My emotions were as convoluted as the day I met Ronen, probably more so. But that didn’t matter. Right now, I needed to know he’d be breathing in the morning.
“Please.” I gave his hand a small squeeze.
Finally, he sank onto the bed, and I guided his head to my chest. He wrapped his arms around me, breathing me in, and I let him. Running my hand through his hair, I tried to soothe him. Or maybe I was soothing myself.
“I can’t lose you too,” I whispered so softly I feared someone might hear my truth. “Promise me I won’t.”
He said nothing. For a moment, I thought he’d fallen asleep, but then his finger traced back and forth over my ribs.
“Aspen.”
“The Soulhound was in the hall earlier. Her eyes were glowing,” he said instead.
Right now, I didn’t have the capacity to care.
“Promise me,” I demanded.
He sighed. “I’ll promise you tonight and a day.”
My hand stilled in his waves. “That’s not good enough.”
“That’s all I’ve got.”
