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Chapter Fifty-Eight

C lover watched as the desire on Whit’s face slowly drained away.

He flinched, blinking at her. “What?” he asked confused.

Her stomach clenched at his response, but she’d said what she’d said, and she’d meant it. “I said I love you.” She shook her head. “But I understand if you aren’t there yet.” She smiled softly. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t feel it, but I hope you don’t mind me saying it because I do.”

Whit frowned, a deep crinkle forming between his brows. “You said you didn’t love me when I asked you to marry me, and I told you I didn’t love you.”

“That was true. At the time, I didn’t love you yet.” She snorted a laugh. “But that wasn’t to say I never would.”

Whit’s dark eyes wavered. The more she spoke, the more uncomfortable he looked. His hands dropped from her hips. Rising up, Clover climbed off his lap to sit beside him.

Whit’s Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed hard. He turned his serious gaze to her, and her guts quivered. She didn’t like that look at all.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said.

Clover took a breath with effort. “Such as?” she whispered.

“When I asked you to marry me, it was with the understanding that this was a marriage of convenience. Yes, I made promises to take care of you when you’re sick and help you when you need it. But I think of this as if we’re roommates, friends at most. Is that not how you see it?”

Clover tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She shook her head and tried again. “I think…that’s how it started. But I never doubted that one day we would love each other—one day this would become a real marriage.”

Whit looked like he was going to be sick, which completely mirrored Clover’s feelings.

He shook his head. “I…don’t think that’s going to happen.”

His words clarified all his previous actions. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to get intimate with her before.

“T-then what was that just now?”

Whit frowned, avoiding her eyes. “We’re both adults. We have needs. Surely, you haven’t loved everyone you’ve slept with. You’re a summer witch after all.”

Clover’s stomach dropped, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Never had being a summer witch sounded—and felt—so dirty.

“I—” Her voice broke, and she took a shallow breath to try again. “You’re saying you’ll never love me, that I’m stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of my life?”

His silence was her answer.

Tears blurred her vision. “I never would have agreed to that if I’d known,” she whispered as a deep pain gnawed at her chest.

Whit opened his mouth to say something, but Clover shook her head sharply.

“Don’t. Don’t say anything else. I…I need some time alone.”

He didn’t make a move to stand, hesitating as he looked at her.

She closed her eyes, shielding herself from the concern in his gaze as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Please,” she said.

She felt his weight leave the bed beside her and heard him cross the room. When she finally opened her eyes, he was gone.

A silent sob climbed up her throat, squeezing the air from her lungs. Had she really agreed to marry someone who would never love her? Had she been so stupid as to fall for all his friendly niceties? Why would the summer gods lead her to this painful place?

As she tried to muffle the sounds of her crying, her gaze fell on the flowers her family had brought for the dining room table. The sunflowers, orange roses, rusty mums, and golden poms were bright and cheerful. She suddenly wanted to be home—home in her cozy attic, surrounded by her loving family.

She hesitated only a minute before rising from the bed and grabbing her coat and purse. In that moment, she didn’t care what questions she would be asked or how many times she’d have to hear “I told you so.” She just wanted to be around her own people. She wanted the warm embrace of the summer sun, the playful laughter of the Good Folk, the scent of flowers—the atmosphere of love and life.

Without so much as a goodbye, Clover slipped on her coat and left the house, bringing nothing with her but the clothes on her back and the sadness in her heart.

It took longer to get home than it should have. She had to keep pulling over when the tears made it too dangerous to drive. But she eventually got there.

She didn’t bother to knock as she came in the kitchen door. She found her parents on the couch, watching television—her brother in the recliner.

They all looked up at her when she shuffled into the living room.

“Clover, what?—?”

Her mom cut her question short as Clover burst into fresh tears. Rushing toward the couch, Clover sat between her parents, who huddled in close as if to protect her from all the ills of the unforgiving world.

Llewellyn sighed angrily and stood from his chair.

“Where are you going?” Mom asked.

“To have a nice chat with my brother-in-law,” Llew growled.

“Don’t,” Clover pleaded, her voice thick with tears. “It’s not his fault. I’m just…stupid. It’s my fault for being so na?ve.”

Llew frowned, then moved toward the kitchen.

“Llew—” Clover called.

“I’m just going to make you some tea,” he snapped.

Mom and Dad didn’t ask Clover what happened. They just wrapped their arms around her and let her cry out her emotions in a safe place. Eventually, she fell asleep.

Her dreams were restless and sad as if she were chasing something just out of reach. She couldn’t recall what they were about when she awoke on the couch the next morning—a fuzzy blanket laid over her. But she was left with a feeling of deep loss.