Page 205 of A Vicious Love

“I did not hit my fucking head.”

“You might have a concussion.” She looked toward the waterfall path through the glass doors as if trying to calculate whether a man could develop a new personality from drowning-adjacent shock. “I can call someone. A doctor. Or Reeves. Does Reeves check you for head injuries?”

“Reeves checks everyone for everything. It’s one of his more impressive hobbies.”

“Then I should call Reeves.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because Reeves would enjoy this.”

She looked down at the towel in her lap, thumb rubbing at the damp edge. “You don’t have to pretend. You scared me, and I fell. I understand that might make you feel bad for a minute. It would make anyone feel bad.”

I leaned forward, forearms on my thighs. “A minute?”

“You don’t have to turn it into something else because of panic.”

“Sienna.”

“You hate me. You’ve hated me for three years. That’s the one thing between us that has been consistent.”

A savage answer rose in me.

I don’t hate you... useless after everything I had done.

“You don’t have to fix it,” she said. “There’s nothing to fix.”

“There is.”

“There isn’t.”

“There is,” I repeated.

Her fingers tightened around the blanket. “Jamison, there is no us.”

There is no us. My ribs locked around my breath.

“Yes, there is,” I said.

Her eyes softened in the saddest possible way. “No. There’s an engagement contract, and a debt between your families. That isn’t us.”

“You think I don’t know the difference?”

“I don’t think you care about the difference.”

Brutally fair.

I stood because sitting still had become impossible. My wet clothes pulled against my skin, but my blood had gone hot. Sienna’s eyes followed me as I paced once toward the fireplace, then turned back.

“I came here,” I said, forcing every word through my teeth, “because I care about the difference.”

She stared at me.

“You care,” she repeated softly.

“Yes.”