huh?”
“Or a good friend.”
He winces at that jab. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.”
“And I mean it.” He stares at me, his gaze sweeping over my face as if memorizing my features for the first time. He hasn’t looked at me with such unveiled longing in nearly a year. My stomach clenches as he pauses over my lips.
“This changes nothing,” I whisper, wondering if I really believe those words. If it were true, why do I have a yearning beginning to grow within me? I want to be touched, to be reminded that the world is not crowded only with sorrow and disappointment. The past year has been filled with nothing but darkness. I long for a hint of light, even if only for a moment.
“You have to stop saying good-bye to me before I’ve even left. I’ve been here, waiting. You just needed to wake up and realize that.”
“And Bastien?”
I growl and shove his hand away. “He has nothing to do with this. He’s not in my life anymore.”
His gaze darts away. “Do you hate me?”
“Hate you?” I gasp, taken aback. “How could I ever do that?
He leans his head back against the wall, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “I always wondered if you wish you’d chosen Bastien instead of me. If you felt trapped by your decision.”
So that was the root of all of this. I should have known he couldn’t let his own insecurity go. It wasn’t losing me to my destiny that he feared most, but that he’d never had me in the first place.
I cup his face with my hand, forcing myself not to notice the difference between the softness of his cheeks compared to the rugged stubble of Bastien’s. “If I still wanted Bastien, I wouldn’t be here now, fighting for us. I love you, Eamon, despite your bull-headed, annoying, overbearing tendencies.”
“I know,” he murmurs as a single tear slips from the corner of his eye. I watch as it trails down his cheek and falls onto my wrist. I can’t remember the last time I saw him cry.
“I don’t think you do.” I shift closer, tucking my leg in so I’m mere inches from him. I stare into his anguished eyes, seeing the guilt and poisonous doubts he has clung to for far too long. I trace my hand along the contours of his face, searching for the boy within that I know would sacrifice anything to make me happy. “I love you.”
His nostrils flare and his heartbeat pulsates against his throat. He reaches out his hand, tentatively cupping my neck as he lowers his lips, softly brushing against the corner of my mouth. I lean into him, encouraging him not to pull back as he has done more times in the past few months than I care to remember.
His touch is feather soft as he trails his lips over my check, nuzzling my ear. His fingers flex against my neck and I know he’s trying to resist drawing me closer. I rise, lifting one leg over him before I sink down into his lap.
His eyes are wide and searching as I lean in and press my lips against his, burying my hands into the curls that sweep over his ears. My grip is firm, insistent. His hands fall about my waist, gripping my sides to match my intensity.
His hands feel warm against the bare skin exposed along my lower spine, the sash about my waist loosened to reveal my tank top and shorts beneath. His hands slowly work their way up my back to immerse in my glossy raven strands, tugging gently.
I still miss my golden hair, the way the sun would glint off the brighter highlights in the summer, but I’ve accepted this change as readily as I’ve accepted my expanding powers. One look in the mirror reveals how far I’ve come and how little I still know about myself.
My head lolls to the side as Eamon’s lips drift toward my ear. His breath gives birth to a thousand goose bumps as he whispers into my neck, “I’ve missed you.”
Warmth creeps back into my heart, slowly radiating out. Eamon’s touch is gentle, exploring, yet hesitant as he waits for me to give him permission. His lips trail to the
“Or a good friend.”
He winces at that jab. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”
“You already said that.”
“And I mean it.” He stares at me, his gaze sweeping over my face as if memorizing my features for the first time. He hasn’t looked at me with such unveiled longing in nearly a year. My stomach clenches as he pauses over my lips.
“This changes nothing,” I whisper, wondering if I really believe those words. If it were true, why do I have a yearning beginning to grow within me? I want to be touched, to be reminded that the world is not crowded only with sorrow and disappointment. The past year has been filled with nothing but darkness. I long for a hint of light, even if only for a moment.
“You have to stop saying good-bye to me before I’ve even left. I’ve been here, waiting. You just needed to wake up and realize that.”
“And Bastien?”
I growl and shove his hand away. “He has nothing to do with this. He’s not in my life anymore.”
His gaze darts away. “Do you hate me?”
“Hate you?” I gasp, taken aback. “How could I ever do that?
He leans his head back against the wall, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “I always wondered if you wish you’d chosen Bastien instead of me. If you felt trapped by your decision.”
So that was the root of all of this. I should have known he couldn’t let his own insecurity go. It wasn’t losing me to my destiny that he feared most, but that he’d never had me in the first place.
I cup his face with my hand, forcing myself not to notice the difference between the softness of his cheeks compared to the rugged stubble of Bastien’s. “If I still wanted Bastien, I wouldn’t be here now, fighting for us. I love you, Eamon, despite your bull-headed, annoying, overbearing tendencies.”
“I know,” he murmurs as a single tear slips from the corner of his eye. I watch as it trails down his cheek and falls onto my wrist. I can’t remember the last time I saw him cry.
“I don’t think you do.” I shift closer, tucking my leg in so I’m mere inches from him. I stare into his anguished eyes, seeing the guilt and poisonous doubts he has clung to for far too long. I trace my hand along the contours of his face, searching for the boy within that I know would sacrifice anything to make me happy. “I love you.”
His nostrils flare and his heartbeat pulsates against his throat. He reaches out his hand, tentatively cupping my neck as he lowers his lips, softly brushing against the corner of my mouth. I lean into him, encouraging him not to pull back as he has done more times in the past few months than I care to remember.
His touch is feather soft as he trails his lips over my check, nuzzling my ear. His fingers flex against my neck and I know he’s trying to resist drawing me closer. I rise, lifting one leg over him before I sink down into his lap.
His eyes are wide and searching as I lean in and press my lips against his, burying my hands into the curls that sweep over his ears. My grip is firm, insistent. His hands fall about my waist, gripping my sides to match my intensity.
His hands feel warm against the bare skin exposed along my lower spine, the sash about my waist loosened to reveal my tank top and shorts beneath. His hands slowly work their way up my back to immerse in my glossy raven strands, tugging gently.
I still miss my golden hair, the way the sun would glint off the brighter highlights in the summer, but I’ve accepted this change as readily as I’ve accepted my expanding powers. One look in the mirror reveals how far I’ve come and how little I still know about myself.
My head lolls to the side as Eamon’s lips drift toward my ear. His breath gives birth to a thousand goose bumps as he whispers into my neck, “I’ve missed you.”
Warmth creeps back into my heart, slowly radiating out. Eamon’s touch is gentle, exploring, yet hesitant as he waits for me to give him permission. His lips trail to the
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