She needed to stay.
I needed her to stay.
Because I—
“I need her,” I whispered. A sigh shuddered through me. Admitting that out loud gave me the courage I normally lacked. The strength to take a step, then another, until I was carefully lowering myself beside her. And now the hard part. The part I had failed at again and again.
The bravery to be vulnerable.
To bare my scarred and bleeding soul.
“She died three years ago,” I started softly, haltingly. A decided tremble shook my voice, but I wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t. “Right before she died, I found her. She was . . . she was naked. And alone. No one to save her from the pack of shifters intent on—”
The image flashed before me and I jerked, unable to breathe. Somehow, past a closed throat, I forced the words out anyway. “The shifters overwhelmed me, too. Made me watch as—as they brutalized her. Raped her. And then, when it was over, they beat me to within an inch of my life. Shredded my wings with their talons, leaving me naked and broken in that accursed alley outside The Pit. I’m sure they thought I’d die, too.”
Reagan stirred next to me, but didn’t speak. I was relieved that she didn’t—I might not be able to finish otherwise. Plowing shaky hands through my hair, I continued. “But I didn’t die, even though for three years I wished that I had. When you found me in the alley that night, bloodied and beaten, I thought that would be the end. I wanted it to be, but . . .”
My breath hitched. “But you saved me. And then, despite everything I did to discourage you, you saved me again. From there, I was lost. I was torn up with guilt over destroying my girlfriend’s life and not being there when she needed me most. I was also struggling with feelings I didn’t know I could still possess.”
I inched closer, letting my knee brush against her thigh. “Reagan, I didn’t—I didn’t want to destroy your life, too. I’m bad luck. Was bad luck. I’m—I’m seeing now that maybe . . . maybe I wasn’t seeing things clearly. That maybe I feared getting close because I didn’t want to lose you, too.” I stopped, chest heaving. The air was thin, thinning still. So many words, so many feelings dropped into the unknown void. I was naked before her, more vulnerable than I’d ever remembered feeling.
And I didn’t know.
I didn’t know if my words were too late.
“I’m sorry,” Reagan said, her voice muffled against her bent knees. “Losing someone you care about in passing hurts badly enough. I couldn’t imagine losing someone I loved, and carrying that guilt for so long. I’m so sorry.”
Her words gutted me yet again. I had dropped my sorrows into her lap and didn’t once apologize for all the wrongs I’d done her.
I didn’t deserve her or her forgiveness.
But . . .
If I walked away right now, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.
I moved, knelt in front of her. I still couldn’t see her face—didn’t know if she wanted me to leave—but I opened my mouth and held nothing back.
“I hurt you. I hurt you so much. I thought that by pushing you away, I was saving you from me. That you’d be better off. But I couldn’t stay away. I came back again and again, hurting you more and more. Reagan,” I choked out her name, not caring that tears were falling again. I didn’t want to lose her. I would cry a million tears if only she’d look up at me one more time.
Just once.
“Please, Reagan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for kissing you like you meant nothing. I’m sorry for shoving you away over and over. You aren’t nothing. You’re everything. But I didn’t think—I didn’t think I deserved you.” I paused, heaving in air through a raw throat.
And in that pause, she looked up and met my eyes. Only for a moment, but one was enough.
Then she moved.
Throwing her arms around my shoulders, she buried her face in my neck.
A shuddering sigh shook my entire body and I clutched at her, fumbling, grasping, until she firmly rested in my arms, going nowhere. Ever again.
We stayed that way a minute.
Two.
I would stay for however long she wanted.
The soft sizzle of bacon filled my ears. I leaned my hip against the stove and casually poked at the long strips of meat with a pair of tongs. A soft pop made me jump, shaking me from my thoughts. The burn never came, though, and I narrowed my eyes. There were small benefits to clothing, even if I would never admit it to a certain Fae.
Bacon for breakfast was Tarik’s idea; when Akeno and Nevaeh ran for supplies this morning, Tarik had asked them to grab a package. The moment I woke up he asked me to cook it, saying the others needed to try the glory that I had introduced him to.
Now he sat, shooting glances at me in between slowly prodding Sebastian’s glass of orange juice closer and closer to the edge of the table they occupied.
While I waited for the slices to darken, I pulled my cigarette case from my pocket, gripping the end of one between my teeth before I tucked the case away. I hadn’t shifted since we left the penthouse, and the feeling was starting to gnaw at me; we needed to shift regularly or the animal might pop out, regardless of what we wanted.
Maybe this afternoon I could slip outside and shift for a few minutes—I didn’t need to accidentally become a lion in the Safehouse and terrify the innocent Fae. I flicked my lighter to life. The end glowed bright as I inhaled, slowly releasing the smoke. Better.
