Page 64 of Heimlock

“When?”

She blinks, as if surprised I’m not fighting it anymore. “Um, whenever?”

“Ten years from now?”

Kyrielle’s expression darkens. “Don’t tell me you’re that kind of person.”

“What if I am?”

She raises an eyebrow. “I won’t submit until you give me my answers.”

“That also seems a bit disingenuous. You can revoke consent at any time. I can’t take back my answers.”

I watch her contemplate my response. To my shock, she says, “Fine. I’ll submit first.”

She’s supposed to refuse, and we part ways, forgetting about the bet. Not this. “What? No.”

It’s her turn to look surprised. “Why not?”

Now that I’m faced with the actual reality of any level of intimacy with her again, my instincts roar to run away. My heart is on a tripwire, ready to implode at the slightest poke of pain. If she or anyone hurts me again, I genuinely don’t think I’ll survive to see another day.

This moment has me so raw, the words slip out before I can smother them into obedience.

“Because I don’t think you understand how close I am to not wanting to be here anymore.” I furiously blink away tears. Gently removing my hand still around her head, I step back. “This is about survival for me, Kyrielle. Not stubbornness. It certainly isn’t because I haven’t tried to be close with people.”

I let out a bitter laugh at the uncountable times I’ve tried. “I know myself, and I know that my breaking point is right over the horizon. All it’ll take is one more heartbreak, one more ruinous loss, and I’m gone.”

Devastation contorts her face. “Trinte, I—”

I hold up a hand, stopping her from saying more. “You don’t need to submit, but I’ll fulfill my end of the bet. Give me time to consider how to mitigate the effects on myself. But you need to respect the emotional tightrope I’m on right now.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

Leaving her in the hallway, I find my way to the locker room. It’s blessedly empty. Locking the door, I let myself come apart, permitting a single keening cry into my palms. The conversation was so short and still felt like a verbal assault. Terror, like I haven’t felt for years, rumbles back into life, shaking me to my very core.

I don’t want to look at it. Not a single disgusting, traumatizing inch of it. Each rape, each punch, each rejection, each betrayal, each loss …

It’s a mistake. All of it’s a mistake. Both of us will regret this. She just doesn’t know it yet.

26

Age 30

My phone pings, signalling a new email. Grinning, I pull up the inbox. If it’s what I think it is, my brother is about to have an exceptionally good day.

Subject Line: Your tickets to Slous.

Hells yeah. Tucking the phone into my back pocket, I whistle a little tune as I lock my front door. Rhuth and Fynn are going to have so much fun on the pink islands.

Today is the surprise baby shower. Fynn wants me there early to help finish setting up. It’s been cute, watching him agonize over decorations and the flavor of cake. Knowing Rhuth, the effort itself will mean the world to her.

Right after landing in front of my brother’s house, I send off the digital tickets. I’m sure he will give me an attitude about arriving empty-handed — I love proving him wrong.

To fuck with him further, I knock on the door instead of just walking in. As expected, he’s both excited and a little frazzled.

And he tried to accuse me of not getting them a baby shower gift. His excitement was worth hiding the secret.

Soon, the house fills with everyone we know. I’ve been put in charge of keeping an eye on the refreshments.