Page 88 of His to Burn

Least of all my affection.

I’d give her the whole fucking world if I could.

Would shield her from everything if I could.

Even myself.

But I knew I couldn’t do that.

Butthis? This was easy.

I saw how much her words hadcost her.

Felt the weight of each one.

Because she didn’t just ask a question.

She opened herself to me, offering up raw vulnerability.

All afternoon, I saw the hesitation, the doubt, all of it manifest in the little crease between her eyebrows.

But I ignored it, too wrapped up in my own rage to give space to her feelings. And in truth, some dark part of me had reveled in it. I told myself it had nothing to do with me. It was just her sitting with the weight of what she had done. Couldn’t help but feel pleasure at the thought of realizing how much she screwed up. After all, Asia knew she needed me for survival, so maybe it clicked that calling me a cold-blooded killer wasn’t her brightest idea.

But at her softly worded question, all of that fell away.

I saw the truth clear as day: she didn’t mean to wound; she meant to confess.

That fucked me up.

Admitting that you needed someone? That shit would strip me bare.

On the surface, Asia and I couldn’t be more different. But underneath all the bullshit—allthe stuff that didn’t matter anymore—we were the same.

Same ghosts, same weaknesses.

And just like I knew I’d chew my fucking tongue off before admitting I needed someone, I knew it took everything in her to do it.

Made me respect her that much more.

So I didn’t answer her question, didn’t chastise her for not realizing she never had to ask me for anything.

Because words were not my language.

Action was.

So while I didn’t have the words—maybe never would—I had action.

And I would use it now.

So I closed the space between us.

Let my thumb drag across her bottom lip.

Wanted to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

She gave me a soft smile, laced with gratitude.

A smile that very quickly shifted and darkened into something else entirely.