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“I love you,” I say, and he nods slowly. “You know that.”
But even just saying those words reminds me that it’s not necessarily true. He’s never managed to tell me he loves me because I don’t think Cevon truly understands what it means to be loved. It’s been so long for him that it’s got to be foreign. I’ll show him, though.
The human might not want to beam with joy at the words, but the lion within him immediately starts to purr.
“I do.”
“And you know Atticus loves you.”
This time he’s a little more hesitant, but he still nods. “Sure.”
“He’s just struggling to show that,” I say and gently run my fingers over his arm. “He’s scared for you, Cev, and he wants—”
“His wants mean nothing to me!” the angry lion roars. I don’t move, used to the temper tantrums thrown by my mate, and he doesn’t disappoint. He kicks the recycling bin, knocking it over, and empty water bottles fall out.
“Feel better?” I taunt.
He glares at me, this time punching the wall to the right of us, his body heaving with his heavy breathing, sweat dripping down him.
“Looks like you’re losing your touch.”
Maybe Dr Abbott would lecture me for pushing my mate this way, it’s probably not healthy, but it’s what works.
Once he calms down, then he lets me in.
I just need to get him out of the pure hatred he’s feeling, to pull him away from the demons in his mind, to remind him that even though his first love is dead… he’s still got me.
“He doesn’t know what my dad did.”
The words surprise me, but I hope I don’t let that show. This isn’t the first time that Cevon’s alluded to his dad being bad.
“What did your dad do?”
“I won’t taint you with his darkness,” Cevon says, shaking his head. “You don’t deserve that.”
“I’m familiar with the darkness.”
A horribly true statement.
“Not this kind of darkness,” he says softly. “I’ll do better and stop trying to provoke Atticus. For you. But that’s all I can promise.”
“It’s good enough for now,” I reply, and he nods.
“I need help,” Cevon says, and I smile at him, hoping I look encouraging. “I want to read one of the books, but…”
A blush coats his sweaty cheeks, a tension building within his eyes. He’s embarrassed, but there’s no need to be.
“So there’s a font that might help,” I say because I’ve read up on it. Dyslexia isn’t something to be ashamed of, and there’s no reason why those who struggle can’t still enjoy books and words the way those who don’t do. “And there are some overlays that might help.”
“Overlays?”
“They go over the kindle, page, computer, whatever, and it changes the background to help make the words clearer. Some have like a ruler across them so you can work line by line, sort of thing, and it’s meant to help your brain focus more.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Maybe I need some of those. For in private. Where nobody knows about them.”
“Your secrets are safe with me,” I soothe, and he nods as if he doesn’t believe me. “Before you go shower, could I ask a favour?”
He raises an eyebrow, adopting a wary stance as he regards me. “What is it?”
