Page 148

It doesn’t.

So I look back up.

Her eyes are still on me. Waiting. Not pushing. Just… open.

And gods, I hate how much that hurts.

“I don’t do it well,” I say finally. “Love. Admitting it. Wanting it. I’ve never had to.”

She doesn’t interrupt. I exhale through my teeth, jaw clenched, every word pulled from somewhere that isn’t supposed to exist in me.

“You want sweet? Go find Silas. You want poetry? Elias can trip over his own tongue trying to impress you. I can’t give you that.”

She quirks a brow. “But you can give me emotional ruin and cryptic declarations in the rain?”

I almost smile.

“I can give youhonesty,” I say, voice low. “Even if it’s ugly. Even if it’s the last thing you want to hear.”

She takes a step closer.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe. She looks up at me like she’s seeing something new. Something I haven’t shown anyone. And maybe she is. Maybe she’s seeing the part of me that stopped fighting this the moment she looked at me like I was worth saving.

She lifts her hand again, slower this time, palm pressed flat against my chest, right over the heart I pretend doesn’t rule me.

And then she smiles.

Not soft.

Not mocking.

Real.

“That’s good,” she says. “Because I don’t want poetry.”

Her fingers curl into my shirt.

“I wantyou.”

I swallow hard, watching her face, searching for a reason not to say what’s next. But I find none. No walls. No shield. Just her. Looking up at me like she’s already forgiven things I haven’t even admitted.

I press my hand over hers. Hold it there, between us.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

The words are low. Rough. Like I’ve never spoken them before. Maybe I haven’t. She blinks, startled—not by the apology, but by the fact that I meant it. I lean in just enough for our foreheads to almost touch, the rain whispering around us like it knows to stay back.

“I’m sorry for everything I did to you. For pushing you. For using you. For making you feel like you were nothing when you were the only fucking thing that ever made me feel real.”

She breathes out slowly. Her lashes lower, but her mouth curves, sly and slow, andgodsI already know I’m in trouble.

“Wow,” she murmurs. “You almost sounded like a decent person just now.”

I bark out a laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

Her smirk sharpens. “Oh, I won’t. I know who you are.”

“Do you?”