“I-I want to talk to her in person. It all feels… too important to put into words, let alone onto paper.” The way Cyrus stammers makes me want to go in and hold on to her tight. “I can’t write the words ‘I love you’ before I’ve said them out loud.”
My heart stutters.
I love you?
Everything locks up before she’s even finished the sentence. I gasp with my next inhale as the words wash over me.
This conversation was about me, right? This can’t be real.
It doesn’t make sense.
No scenario went like that in my head, so it’s not truly a possibility is it? Besides, she loves Amara. That’s who she must be truly talking about, maybe she’s also been trying to talk to Amara and Amara isn’t listening.
But why would she be talking to Mabel– Amara’slover– about that?
Suddenly, a deep ocean stare collides with mine through the crack in the door, like the tide crashes into sand.
“Tally.”
Oh fuck.
Chapter Forty-One
CYRUS
It hurts like fuck watching Tally walk out my room, refusing to hear me out.
I understand why she doesn’t want to listen but it still hurts. Instead of following my instinct and following her out, I collapse on the bed, giving her the space she clearly needs after coming all over me.
I should have stopped her before she did that, spoke to her whilst I had her tucked into my arms.
But as usual, I fucked it all up.
When the darkness threatens to take over my vision, I squeeze my eyes shut. Fisting the duvet tight, in hopes of keeping tears from falling.
My heart runs wild in my chest, threatening to break free and chase down Tally all on its own.
I sit here until my fingers go numb from clenching the duvet so hard, out running the demons of my own making.
When I finally get my breathing back in check and peel open my eyelids, the empty room stares back at me.
Fuck this. I won’t go and find her; if she wants space, that's fine. I can understand space.
But I can’t stay in here.
Changing my clothes and putting on my usual air of indifference, I head out. Just before I exit, I grab my cutlass, buckling the strap around my waist. After last night, I don’t plan on going anywhere without it.
It isn’t until I’m walking the halls, that I realise, I have no idea where I plan on heading.
Until Nadine walks out of her room, cooing over her daughter that's strapped to her chest. When she sees me, she grins. “Morning, Cyrus. You want breakfast?”
I plan on saying no– let her enjoy her morning with her baby, when I’m capable of feeding myself, stew in my own shit for a little longer– but my stomach rumbles to life. She doesn’t let me answer after that, instead ushering me down the hall towards the galley.
“I’m heading to the kitchen anyway, I can whip you up something.” She says, storming ahead with one hand braced on her baby's back. Two dark little eyes peer up at me from her chest, babbles pouring out of her mouth. As far as babies go, Nadine and Bobby’s daughter is pretty adorable.
Clearing my throat, I try to be polite. “How’s the baby?”
Nadine half smirks before looking down at her daughter and completely melting. “Sammy’s teething, so lots of crying. We’ve run out of the herbal remedies Bobby made,” she breaks into baby talk, rubbing her nose along her daughters. “That’s why we’re heading to the kitchen, isn’t it? To make you some more, so you’re not grumpy and in pain anymore.”
