Page 120 of Heimlock

“You came.” He sounds surprised and enraptured.

“I knew you needed me,” I murmur.

His voice wobbles as he says, “I’m sorry I was mean to you.”

I wipe away the tear slipping from the corner of an eye. “I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“I love you, Kyrielle.”

The words are said with so much surety, I’m sure I’ve misheard. This evening is so emotionally loaded; is this really a good time? “Are you sure you mean to say that right now?”

“I was thinking of killing myself.”

The words rip through me like a blade, eviscerating everything in their path. I actually want to slap him silly.

Bursting into tears, I demand, “Did you really put those two sentences together, back to back?”

Instead of taking it back, he brings a hand to my cheek, watching me from my lap. “I didn’t because I thought of how sad you might be. And I love you. Which means I’m not allowed to make you sad if I can help it.”

I laugh out a sob, leaning over until my mouth is on his, placing the smallest of kisses on his lips. The hand on my face snakes to the back of my head as he presses us together more firmly. There’s no intensity in it; if anything, it’s reassurance.

When his hand releases my head, I stay hovering over his face. “I’m supremely glad you didn’t kill yourself. Who will I regurgitate my hazelnut coffee into?”

Trinte stares at me, facing twisting from confusion to incredulity. “You want me alive so you can spit in my mouth?”

“No,” I assure him fiercely. “I want you also alive so I can eat your meat log.”

“Goddess, I love you,” he breathes, sounding more enthralled than anything. “You’re so weird.”

“I am not weird,” I flash a grin before scowling. “But seriously, please don’t.”

“I won’t.” The words ring with truth. “While I’m not saying you’re the only reason I’m alive, because that’s a lot of pressure … I’ll stay alive for you.”

“Good enough for me.” I flex my spine with a groan. “Okay, please, can we get up?”

Trinte rolls to his side, also letting out a pained groan. “Fortuna, strike me down. I feel like Dragon dung.”

He clambers up to standing, grabbing my hands to pull me up. My knees scream and buckle.

“Whoa.” Trinte catches me before I fall. “What’s wrong?”

Chuckling, I hobble over to the couch with his help. “Not sure what time it is, but I do know my knees lost circulation a while ago.”

He stares down at me with a pained expression. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

I grab his hand. “No. It’s fine. I was glad to be there.”

His voice’s scratchy as he asks, “Do you want some water?”

“Yes, please.”

He returns a few seconds later with two bottles. He hands me one. “Figured a Heimlock is not a good idea right now.”

“Every hour is Heimlock hour,” I joke.

“You should be on their marketing team.”

“Maybe I missed my calling.”