Page 64 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Léandre

I ’m frozen where I’m standing. It seems to be the thing today. First, at the threshold of our room earlier today, and now, at the threshold of yet another room.

Except this time, it’s not my body commandeering the frozen state.

It’s my heart.

Because she’s right.

I had no idea about any of this.

Somehow, until now, I had forgotten how I found her in my room just after I lost my memories.

Somehow, I forgot how I found her crying next to my door when I walked out.

Somehow, I forgot that there must have been a reason my pillows smelled like her.

Somehow, I forgot that I didn’t start existing on the first day I remember.

I thought I was an asshole earlier for trying to push her in my arms when I knew that she wanted me, but that there was still something holding her back. That was nothing next to what I’m feeling now.

There’s a thing I know for certain now.

I’m the biggest asshole for not seeing any of this coming.

For a second, I blame Angélique for not telling me. She’s supposed to be my best friend, and she ought to have warned me about what could happen here, alone with Cassiopé, but I can’t even think like that.

It’s all my fault.

I’ve lived like a new man—as if I had no past before being ‘reset’. It didn’t even occur to me that the man I used to be could have something to live for.

I feel like I stole his life, which is dumb because it’s also my life. If my attraction to the girl my former self dated is any indication, we might not have been so different.

Except he got the girl, and I can see it in her eyes.

Unless this brain chip isn’t a problem anymore, and my impending memory loss isn’t in the balance anymore, I won’t have a chance with Cassiopé.

And I understand, truly, I do.

It doesn’t make it less painful, though.

I know this is deeper than just a need for her body. I know this is more, but I’m not sure she’s ready to hear it, either.

“Come back to the house,” I tell her. “You need dry clothes. I’ll sleep on the couch again. My back isn’t hurting anymore, and I asked Angélique if she could bring a mattress next time she comes. I can sleep on the couch until then.”

She shakes her head.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she says, and this time I know exactly what she means.

She can’t live with me, knowing that it might break her heart even more.

I get it.

I’m freaking sad, but I get it.

“I’m going to ask Angie to bring me back next time, and we’ll send someone else to keep you company,” she says with a broken voice.

She’s not crying anymore, but I can still hear in her voice that she’s just seconds away from crying again.

So, I say the only thing that will make this right.

“Go back to Notre Dame.”

She seems surprised by my words, but I mean it.

If I want to prove to her that I mean it, and that I want her to be happy, then I need to let her live.

Away from me.

“You need to live again, Firefly. You need to find your inner fire again, and I won’t be the one holding you back. You need to go back home.”

I pause for my words to settle in her mind.

“Go back to Notre Dame tonight. Or maybe tomorrow if you want to sleep before making the trip, but go back to your life and forget about me.”

She doesn’t answer.

“You’re right. I didn’t know, and it wasn’t fair of me to think things would go further away with you without knowing the full situation. Now I do, and I don’t want you to feel trapped with me.”

She only nods, and I see resolve in her eyes.

“I’ll leave in the morning. I’ll take the couch for the night.”

Her words are my downfall, because not only will I be alone for a few days, but I’ll miss her every single second she won’t be here.

But I can’t tell her that because it’s not fair to her.

I just told her that she should go and forget me. I can’t tell her I’m going to miss her or ask her to think about me.

It’s not fair.

I’ve read somewhere that when you love someone, you have to let them go.

And maybe, just maybe, I fell in love with Cassiopé, but she wasn’t meant for me.

“Take the bed,” I tell her. “I’m used to the couch and you’ll need to be at full strength if you need to fly to Paris without a jet.”

I don’t tell her that I need her to sleep in the bed so I can bask in her smell when I go to sleep once she’s gone.

That would be creepy.

But it’s the truth.

She doesn’t negotiate, and that’s how I know there’s no more fight in her.

She gets up, refusing my help, and we walk back to the house in silence.