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“The Tinman hates you as much as I do. What’s that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Right. Of course. Because a heartless man makes a great ally.”

“What do you want, Rook?”

The staccato beat of my heart makes my voice wobble. More sign of weakness. I said I was going to kill him and now he’s here and I’m frozen like a terrified deer.

“Can I tell you a secret, Kansas?”

My mouth goes dry. My ears are ringing, alarm bells chiming.

I should run. I should put distance between us, call for the Tinman, grab a knife, and yet butterflies are spinning in my stomach.

“I don’t want your secrets anymore.”

The lie tastes acrid on my tongue.

He disappears and my spine straightens, my body sensing the impending danger before my mind can account for what is happening.

He reappears just inches in front of me.

I stumble backward, hitting the doors of the cooling room. Another cake is smashed beneath my feet.

“I did not expect you to be what you are,” he confesses, a raspy edge to his voice.

“That’s funny because I also expected you to be different than what you are.”

“What did you expect me to be?”

“Loyal,” I say.

A wrinkle appears between his dark brows. He can’t be surprised by this rebuff.

“We’d only just met, Kansas. My loyalty must be earned.”

“Had I not shown you kindness? Compassion?”

“Is that what you want?” He takes another step, closing the distance. “Kindness? Compassion?”

He says the two words like they’re too soft on his tongue, too sweet.

All my life, I was surrounded by soft, sweet, kind people. People I love dearly. People who love me. And yet it was never enough. The chasm in my heart was insurmountable.

Something was always missing. And the shame and guilt I felt, like an ungrateful asshole, nearly tore me apart.

I tried to soothe those feelings, tried to fill that hole by being kind and sweet too. The good girl. Dutiful and respectful. And over and over again, I would tell myself, this is enough. You should not want more.

Rook is not saying it out loud, but I can hear what is left unsaid: He sees right through me.

I do not want kindness and compassion. I want to feel alive. I want my heart to race and my mouth to go dry and I want my knees to wobble and I want to feel like yes, maybe this is too much, maybe I’ve gone too far, maybe this is more than I can bear.

Because I will never know when the void will be filled if I don’t go anywhere at all, if I do nothing.

Another wrinkle appears between Rook’s brows, sensing the shift in my thoughts. We barely know each other and yet somehow, he already knows me so well.

I am seen by him.

With all my faults and fissures.