“That’s not a medical concern.”
“No. It’s a personal one.” She kept her voice even, channeling Ginger’s advice. Be clear. No room for misinterpretation. “I heard you asked Flora about me and how I was settling in. But you won’t show up to a public event where you might actually have to talk to me face to face.”
His hands flexed. “Chloe?—”
“I’m not angry. I’m just trying to understand.” She took a breath, forcing herself to continue. “You kiss me like I matter, like both sides of you want me, and then you push me away. I need to know if this is going somewhere or if I’m just… convenient when it’s private and safe.”
The words came out more vulnerable than she intended, but she didn’t take them back. He was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Crowds can be problematic.”
“Problematic how?”
“Too much stimulation. Too many emotions. Too many things that could go wrong.” He turned away, staring out the window at the November sunshine. “My father lost control at a town gathering when I was twelve. Someone bumped into my mother, hard enough that she stumbled. And Hyde—his Hyde—emerged.”
Her breath caught. “What happened?”
“He didn’t hurt anyone. That time.” His shoulders were rigid. “But he could have. Everyone saw what he was. Saw the violence in him. My mother spent the rest of the evening apologizing. Making excuses. And my father…” He stopped, jaw working.
“What did your father do?”
“Locked himself in his study for three days. When he came out, he’d developed the first version of the suppressant.” His reflection in the window looked haunted. “He spent the rest of his life trying to make sure it never happened again. Trying to prove he was safe. In control.”
The picture forming in her mind made her chest ache. A young Victor watching his father struggle. Learning that Hyde was something to be feared and that control was the only thing standing between safety and disaster.
“But he never hurt anyone?”
“Not physically.” He turned back to face her, and the pain in his blue eyes was almost unbearable to witness. “But the fear did damage. My mother learned to be careful. To monitor his moods. To keep everything calm and controlled. She loved him. I know she did. But she was also always just a little bit afraid.”
“And you don’t want that for me.”
“I don’t want that for anyone.” He moved closer, and she could see the war in his expression—want battling with responsibility. “Especially not you. Especially not when you’re already vulnerable.”
Chloe slid off the examination table, closing the distance between them. “I’m not vulnerable. I’m pregnant. There’s a difference.”
“Chloe—”
“And I’m not your mother.” She reached up, pressing her hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammer beneath her palm. “I’m not going to spend my life walking on eggshells, waiting for you to lose control. Because I don’t think you will.”
His hand came up to cover hers, pressing it harder against his chest. “You can’t know that.”
“Maybe not. But I know you’ve spent your entire adult life proving you can maintain control. I know you’ve developed suppressants and protocols and contingency plans. I know youavoid crowds not because you’re afraid of hurting strangers, but because you’re afraid of giving people a reason to fear you.” She looked up at him, willing him to hear her. “That’s not the behavior of someone dangerous. That’s the behavior of someone who cares too much.”
His eyes flashed green. “The caring is what makes it dangerous.”
“Or maybe it’s what makes it worth the risk. I’m willing to take that chance. The question is whether you are.”
His free hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “You should be running.”
“I don’t want to run. I want—” She stopped herself, suddenly uncertain.
“What do you want?” His voice was low, almost a growl.
The truth bubbled up before she could stop it. “I want to see where this goes. I want to know if what I feel when you kiss me is real. I want to stop being afraid of wanting things.”
His thumb stilled on her cheek. “Chloe…”
“I know it’s complicated. I know you’re scared. But so am I.” She pressed closer, until the baby bump nestled between them, a reminder of all the risks she was already taking. “I’m terrified of getting hurt again. Of letting someone in and having them decide I’m not worth the effort. But I think you’re worth trying for. Worth being brave for.”
For a long moment, he just stared at her, his expression torn between hope and fear.
