He stopped.
We were already so close to shattering. There were cracks between us; water and debris were seeping through. I didn’t want to ruin this.
“Do you remember the first romance we read?” I blurted.
A bird’s song trickled in through the open window, counting the silence in its melody.
I don’t know why he read them, he wasn’t a fan, but anytime I read one, he would too. When I got into Twilight, he finished them before me. He was Team Edward and I was Team Jacob. He said, and I quote, “I knew you were dumb, Abigail, but maybe we should check you for a brain tumor.”
I like books, but Theo loves them. He teased me about my love of romance, but he’s the only person who ever read them with me.
Theo didn’t respond, so I kept talking.
“You said that fairy tales and happily ever afters were for rich people… bet you feel fucking stupid now,” I said on a laugh. I worked the fine, shimmery fabric of my dress between my fingers, hating it. It was beautiful and a fucking lie—like everything in my life.
“I know things are messed up between us.” I lifted my eyes and found his hard glare had softened.
“Abigail…”
God, I could forget everything with that voice and the eyes behind it. He took a step to me, and I knew if he touched me, I’d cave.
“Do you ever think about looking for her? Your mother…” I whispered.
“No.” His voice was firm.
“What if somebody found her for you?” I offered. “I know I screwed up everything…” I rubbed my forehead, probably messing up the artfully manufactured glow placed there only moments before. “I don’t know why you’re still here…” If you still want revenge a scared, uncertain part of my brain whispered. “I know that… you can… you should find her.”
It went so much better in my head. I was going to say how he could do so much better than follow me around, and he deserved better than being the Crowne dog. He could find his real family. I know how much that meant to him. It was all he ever wanted.
I was going to tell him how I hired an investigator, and there was hope.
Instead it came out a jumbled, weird mess of alphabet soup.
“I miss you,” I confessed. “You’re here, but it’s worse than when you were gone. I feel like you’re getting ready to leave me again.”
“Sweet girl,” he murmured, a guarded smile on his face. “I would never leave you, not willingly, not unless I had to.”
The words were so much different than the first time he’d spoken them. They tightened around my heart like barbed wire, instead of soothing like silk.
“You would tell me if you were going to leave, right?” I asked. Theo nodded, but it felt off.
“Promise?” I teased, and his eyes clouded, landing on the bracelet of his I still wore. I fiddled with the beads, insecure, and moved to slide it off to give it back.
His hand landed on my wrist, stopping me.
“No. Wear it. I like you having something of mine. To think of me.” He thumbed the beads on my wrist, that foreign emotion clouding his eyes again. Was it sorrow? That couldn’t be right.
“Theo?” I placed my free palm on his cheek, and instantly his hand was over mine. His grip wasn’t light like mine, he pressed my hand deep into his sharp cheekbone, until I was sure it hurt.
“You were the most distracting fairy tale, Abigail Crowne, but you were worth every harsh reality.”
“I’m not a fairy tale. I’m here—”
His lips crushed mine, hands diving into my hair. I gasped at the suddenness of his bruising lips. He took advantage of my open mouth, tongue seizing mine, swallowing my sighs.
His kisses were rough and grating and tender at the same time. After so many days of callous Theo, I didn’t care how his love came. I’d wrap myself up in the thorns of his affection.
We pulled back for a breath, his eyes burning and pained, our foreheads pressed together. His hands smoothed up and down my arms, from shoulder to wrist.