“You're not, babe.” She tried to cover her tears. He could hear it in her voice. “I just get ahead of myself. Ahead of us.”
As much as Zayne wanted to leave this house and this life to never look back, he couldn't stand seeing her suffering because of his heavy-handedness. He was supposed to be her husband soon. That meant he needed to take care of her, not hurt her. He owed it to her. Swallowing hard, he looped his arm around her waist, drawing her back against him. When his lips met the top of her head, the tension in her body melted, and she wilted against him.
“It's a beautiful house,” he whispered in her ear. “I like how happy it makes you.”
“You do?” she asked, sounding so vulnerable, like one word from him might shatter her forever, or just as easily fill her entirely.
“Yes.” Zayne might not mean it when he said he loved her, not in the way she thought he did, but he cared about her. It was a love of its own, what he felt for Mellie. A choice. Cupping her chin, he ran his thumb along her jaw and encouraged her face toward his. Her long neck twisted, and her eyes met his. “I haven't quite made it home yet.” It hurt to talk so softly. So honestly. “I need a little time.”
Sadness contorted her face, and she turned in his arms, taking his face in her hands. “I'm so sorry about your friend, Zayne. I waited for you while you were at war. I'll wait for you to come back to me. I'll wait as long as you need.”
He searched her eyes, confused by the depth he saw there, frightened once again that he had never read her right, and she really did love him. “I'll be softer with you.”
A tear slinked down her cheek. “You're soft enough for me, baby.” Rising on her toes, her lips melted against his, and she kissed him tenderly. “You're enough. I don't need a big house or to rush into a family. I don't need anything else if you're with me.”
Her wanting a life with him twisted his chest. He forced himself to nod.
“Let's go,” she said. “We've looked at enough homes today. I'm dying to update my binder.”
The sparkle in her eye returned too quickly. So many things were a choice for her too. He didn't actually know what went on in her mind and heart. That wasn't true of Kira. He tried so hard to escape her, but he couldn't avoid seeing all the way into her.
Mellie's driver took them to his mother's house, and his fiancée held his hand the entire way, her tears replaced with the contentment of having his care. Was that the only way their relationship ever had any authenticity? For him to hurt her and comfort her?
Zayne never meant to become a man who hurt people.
Guilt gnawed at him, and he wished he'd said nothing about children, not while Mellie dreamed in rooms bathed with sunlight. When they entered the house, he slid his hand out of hers, covering it by placing his palm against her back. But Mellie must have felt so connected to him, because she just kept returning to his side. His arms. Wanting to look into his eyes like her soul whispered to his. But he didn't hear anything except for the war inside his mind.
Mellie and Mom leaned over the kitchen island together, poring over her binder, gushing over every detail his fiancée saw in person.
“Where's Kira?” Mellie asked. “She has to see.”
Knots twisted his stomach at that. “Not feeling well,” Zayne said, shaking his head behind Mellie's back when Mom looked up at him. Now he needed to inform Kira of her sickness before she blew up his story. No way he was letting Mellie throw her lavish house options in Kira's face while she was trapped in confinement.
“There's medicine for her in the living room,” Mom said. “Take it to her for me.” Soft smile. She made this life bearable. Always had. He needed to be a better son and never stop thanking her for the way she raised him and the courage shetaught him to live by. How did she stay strong and tender? How did Kira? Brock was like that too. He never hurt people the way Zayne did.
Pretending to grab the nonexistent medicine, he found Kira in her room, surprised she didn't venture out when she heard them come home. Was this her giving him the distance he kept demanding? Or had he hurt her when they argued about his wound? He pushed her away when she helped him with his injury. Walked off into the woods after his nightmare. And Kira felt guilty that he got hurt.
Her eyes lit when she saw him, though, as she sat there with a book in hand.
“I brought medicine for you.” He lifted an empty hand. “You're too sick to spend time with Mellie.”
Her smile melted whatever Mellie's tears had left of him earlier. “Very thoughtful. Thank you.”
Best to get this over with. “The Phaedra decided on his demands.”
A pensive look came over Kira. “What?”
“Beg her to give him the information he wants.”
Hardness erased the Kira he knew, transforming her stare into what he'd expect from a soldier's eyes. A general.
“Just do what he wants. It's harmless. Your mom won't change her mind based on what you say under duress.”
“She won't?” Kira set the book down and hooked her arms around her knees. “If I look my mom in the eye, and I beg her to save my life, to give up the Followers, you don't think she'll say yes?”
What else did he feel comfortable saying while indoors? They'd discuss it more later outside. “Your mom loves you. She'll want to save you, but I don't think anyone expects your words to change things. It's an opportunity for you to show the Phaedra you can comply.”
“The United won't let me say that, and they won't let my mom talk. They'll cut the connection.” Her voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “You're hijacking the meeting, aren't you? Or getting to her right after.”
