Page 65 of Tribute Act

I met his gaze. It was tempting to take that face-saving way out, but it would be a lie, and I couldn’t tell him a barefaced lie, even if it did shred my pride to admit the truth.

“It wasn’t that.”

“Then I don’t understand.” He swallowed hard and rubbed the back of his neck. “Why were you so angry? I thought you might actually be pleased, you know?” This was hard for him, I could see that. The least he deserved was an honest answer.

I braced myself. “I don’t want you to start something with me because of my feelings.”

His frown deepened. “What?”

“The only reason you should stay with someone is because you want to.”

He blinked, seeming none the wiser.

Abandoning the last remnants of my pride, I muttered, “I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t love me back.”

For a long, awful moment he said nothing. Heat crept up my neck and into my face in a slow, agonising wave, the humiliation intense. I couldn’t believe I’d put myself in this position again.

Then Mack said, his voice little more than a whisper, “You—you love me?”

Christ, what did he want? Blood?

“Yes! I love you!” I bit out. “Satisfied? You want me to say it again? I love you, Mack. I love you.”

He glared at me. “You’re saying that like you’re repeating yourself, but you never said it before.”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“No,” he said, his belligerence matching mine now. “No, because you didn’t say that. You just asked me to stay.”

“I didn’t just ask you, I begged you,” I said tightly. “I begged you to give us a chance.”

“That is not telling someone”—and here his voice grew hoarse—“that you love them.”

I raked a hand through my hair. “Okay, fine, it’s not exactly the same. But Jesus, Mack, I’d already put myself on the line by begging you to stay and you said no! What was I supposed to do? Humiliate myself even more?”

“I didn’t say no, I—”

“Yes, you did,” I interrupted. “You shook your head, Mack. I asked you to tell me what you were thinking, and you didn’t say anything. You gave me nothing at all. No reason to think your answer was anything but no. I don’t—”

“And I’m sorry!” he cried, and his expression was distraught. “I fucked up, I know! But I really didn’t want to be in love with you! The plan—my plan—was not to stay here.”

I stared at him, struck dumb.

“I really didn’t want to be in love with you!”

“Wait . . .” I said slowly, trying to parse his words. But it seemed he was on a roll now.

“I wasn’t even sure that’s what it was. But suddenly I wanted to be with you all the time, and I’d never felt that way about any other person. I noticed all these little things about you, and they made me all so fucking sappy. Stupid shit, like how your hair curls at the nape of your neck and how you look when you’re sleeping. And I was just—” He broke off.

“Just what?”

His gaze was bleak. “I was happy. Like I’ve never been before. I was—” Again, he stopped.

I whispered, “What?”

“Fucking terrified.”

I stared at him. “Me too.”