He’d come to learn romantic love wasn’t enough. He had to be enough for himself first before he could give himself wholly to another.
But he stillwantedsomeone to love him. Hewantedto be enough for her too.
“You’re far better and far more worthy than you think.”
“Thom,” Deckard began cautiously. His brows pinched together, showing his concern. “Do you love Brea?”
Thom took a moment to consider the question. “Are you asking if I love her or if I’m in love with her?”
Deckard tipped his head to the side. “Is the answer different?”
A second passed before Thom nodded.
“Then I’m asking both.”
Thom thumbed his nose, took a swig of ale for courage, and said, “Yes, I love her. I want her to be happy with or without me. Whether I’m in love with her is...uncertain.”
Deckard seemed as puzzled by the answer as Thom felt. “If she weren’t a Warrior, would you pursue her?”
Thom chuckled self-derisively. “Ah, but she is a Warrior.”
“Pretend she wasn’t.”
“I can’t,” Thom said. “That’s part of what makes herher. It’s part of what makes me—” He cut himself off, not ready to be so open yet.
Deckard sighed. “Do you intentionally get yourself into difficult situations, or are such situations inexplicably attracted to you?”
A sour laugh escaped him. “Unfortunately, I think it’s a bit of both.”
“I see.” Deckard sipped his wine, a thoughtful expression across his face, then pronounced, “You’re in love with her.”
Thom shrugged. “Maybe.”
Shaking his head, Deckard grinned kindly. “No, Thom,” he insisted. “Youarein love with Brea. You’re willing to sacrifice your happiness to let her have her own. Even if that means you can’t be with her.”
The truth of the sentiment hit Thom then: He was bloody in love with Breata Lohen. If given the chance, he’d marry her. If she asked, he’d pull down both moons for her.
Thom dropped his face into his hands. “This is shit,” he said, the words muffled by his palms.
Deckard chuckled. “This is love,” he said. “It hurts, but it’s worth it.”
“Is it?” Thom demanded, hands dropping to the table. “If you’re you, then fine, sure, it’s worth it. Everything you and Evie went through hurt, but you ended up together. Love was worth the pain because, in the end, you’re together. But what about me? Is it worth loving someone you’ll never be with? Someone who will never even know how much they mean to you?”
Deckard frowned. “You don’t intend to tell her?”
Thom glared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why?”
“That would go against the very thing you just said proves my love for her.”
Deckard looked entirely baffled. “How so?”
“If love is self-sacrificing, then how can I possibly be selfish enough to even offer the lesser option to her?” Thom said. “How could I ever ask her to let go of everything she’s worked toward for the past thirty years—shit, that’s longer than I’ve been alive. How could I ask her to give that up forme?”
“I thought you said she doesn’t have feelings for you anymore,” Deckard quipped. He raised a placating hand at Thom’s annoyed glare. “Love is self-sacrificing, yes. But you’re forgetting that it takes two people to be in love. She gets to sacrifice as well. And, at the end of the day, you’ll find that neither of you felt like you were sacrificing much at all because you’re together, and isn’t that the thing you want most in the world anyway?”
Thom slumped in his seat. He eyed his brother irritably. “I hate you, you know? You and your bloody good advice.”
