That is the thought that arrives next, ugly and merciless.
I should have known better after Garrett. I should have known better than to confuse tenderness with permanence, protection with commitment, desire with love. Men can sleep in your bed and still keep one boot aimed at the door. Men can look at you like you are sunrise and still decide dawn is too much responsibility.
Kauss says my name again, softer this time. “Evie.”
“Don’t.”
“Please listen.”
“I have been listening.” My voice rises despite every attempt to keep it steady. “I listened when you told me about Horus IV. I listened when you said you were dangerous. I listened when you said you couldn’t tell me things because they were complicated. I listened when you walked out of here with pieces of yourself locked up so tight I could barely tell whether you trusted me or just liked how warm my apartment was.”
His face goes still.
I know that stillness now.
It is not emptiness. It is him taking a wound and deciding whether to bleed.
“Is that what you believe?” he asks.
“I don’t know what I believe right now.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I don’t owe you a clean answer while I’m actively feeling like an idiot.”
“You are not an idiot.”
“I asked you to move in with me.”
“Yes.”
“And you looked like I asked you to step into an airlock.”
His jaw flexes. “That is not fair.”
“No? Then what was that look?”
“Fear.”
The word comes rough and low.
For one second, it reaches me.
For one second, I almost soften.
Then the old wound opens wider, and Garrett’s voice crawls up out of memory. You’re amazing, Shy, but I’m not ready for anything that serious. Said three days before he emptied the safe and vanished off-world with my grandmother’s earrings in his bag.
Fear. Not ready. Big step.
Different words. Same hallway. Same door.
My eyes burn, and I hate that worse than anything. “I am so tired of being the woman men are scared to choose.”
Kauss flinches.
Good.
No.
