“I know you.” She swung her legs off the couch. “And I know Hyde. He was content last night. Happy, not violent.”
“For now.” He moved to the window, looking out at the quiet woods rather than her face. “But that can change. My father?—”
“Is not you. We’ve been through this.”
“We clearly haven’t, since you still seem to think I’m safe.” He turned back to her, letting her see the green glow he could feel building behind his eyes. “Look at me, Chloe. Really look. This is what I am. A man who can barely maintain human form around you. Who transforms from desire rather than anger, which is somehow worse because it means I can’t even trust myself in intimate moments.”
She climbed to her feet, one hand braced on her lower back. “You’re afraid.”
“I’m realistic.”
“You’re running.” She crossed the room towards him. “Because last night was real and intense and you actually let yourself feel something. So now you’re panicking and pushing me away before?—”
“Before I hurt you.” He held up his hand, palm out. “Look.”
His fingers were lengthening as they watched. His nails darkening into claws. His skin taking on the familiar faint greenish tint.
“You see?” he asked harshly. “I can’t even have this conversation without losing control. What happens when we argue about something serious? When the baby is crying and you’re exhausted and I’m stressed? What happens when?—”
“When we face life together like actual partners instead of you catastrophizing everything?” She reached for his transforming hand, and he jerked back.
“Don’t.”
“Why not? You touched me plenty last night with hands bigger than this.”
“Last night was—” He searched for words. “An aberration. A moment of weakness. It can’t happen again.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
The word fell between them like an executioner’s axe.
Her expression crumpled for just a moment before she forced it smooth, but he’d seen her hope shatter and reform into something harder.
“I see.” Her voice was steady despite the wet shine in her eyes. “So that’s it? One night of actual honesty and connection and you’re done?”
“I’m protecting you.”
“Bullshit.” The curse sounded wrong in her soft voice. “You’re protecting yourself. From feeling. From risking. From being happy.”
“Chloe—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “You don’t get to ‘Chloe’ me right now. You don’t get to use my name like it means something when you’re actively throwing away what we have.”
Hyde roared inside his chest—rage and denial and anguish all tangled together. His hands clenched, fighting the transformation crawling up his arms.
“This is exactly what I mean.” He gestured at himself, at the changes rippling through his body. “I can’t even discuss ending this without Hyde fighting me. What happens when real problems arise? When he decides you or the baby are threatened by something trivial?”
“Then we handle it.” Her hands settled on her belly, protective and fierce. “Together. Like people who care about each other do.”
“I can’t?—”
“You won’t.” Her voice cracked. “There’s a difference, Victor. Can’t means impossible. Won’t means you’re choosing not to try.”
He forced his hands behind his back, hiding the transformation. “I’ve seen what happens when a Hyde loses control around people he loves. My father nearly killed my mother during an argument about dinner. Dinner, Chloe. Something that mundane, that ordinary, and he shifted and put her through a wall.”
“On purpose?”
