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He adjusted himself in his seat. “Keep it, it’s yours.”

“I was kidding. I can’t just steal your hoodie,” I countered.

“You’re not stealing it.” His gaze held mine, unwavering. “I’m giving it to you.”

His words surprised me. It was a very caring side to him I’d not seen before. From the outside, he came across as the bad boy bar owner, covered in tattoos. But really? I think I’d just unlocked the absolute softy in him.

I looked down at my sleeves pooled over my hands, smiling. “Thanks.”

His answering smile reached his eyes this time. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

Our attention gravitated to the fire. It was so nice, just enjoying his company like this, with no expectations of anything more. Last time we sat here when the lights went out, the moment had been filled with sexual tension. This time it held subtle intention.

“How do you feel after everything I told you?” His shoulders melted, releasing tension as he spoke. Like he’d been holding onto the words for longer than he wished.

I pulled away to stare up at him, heavy question marks peering back at me. “About the balancing nature thing?”

“Everything.”

Silence filled the space between us.

The clock on the wall ticked louder.

“I said what I meant. Every one of us has a side of our magic that we don’t like to admit exists. The way I see it, you have the means to use it for the greater good.”

“Even if I have to,” he swallowed a lump in his throat, his eyes averting from mine momentarily, “kill.”

Hearing the word spill from him was like watching a new form of torture. I felt his unease, the knots in his voice so tight I feared they would never unravel.

I chose my next words carefully. “I’m guessing you would never kill anyone who deserved to live another day.”

He picked at the sticker on his cherry cola. “Correct.”

He obviously had his means of finding these reasons out. I did not wish to pry further. “If I’m honest, I’m more worried about how you cope with that kind of heaviness. Knowing that’s the crux of your gift must be insanely smothering.”

His gaze drifted to the fire again, fixating on it. The long pause elevated the crackling of the flames throughout the room, only heightening my awareness further. His fingertips drew an invisible line over the material on his sweats, and, when they stopped, I knew he was ready to speak. A long breath filled his chest, and he adjusted himself just enough for me to know his answer was wary on his tongue. “I guess I don’t really deal. I just bottle it up and keep on keeping on.”

I had never been one to hold back the truth. “That’s not healthy. But I’m also guessing you know this.”

He nodded. “I do.”

I lay my hand on his forearm in an attempt to comfort him. “Is there some sort of outlet that could help you? Or can I help at all?”

He focused on my hand, and it made me wonder if touching him was the wrong thing to do.

I removed it.

“This here, right now, having you willing to listen and talk about it, feels like a weight has lifted off my shoulders already.”

I smiled. “Well, if you ever need to talk or vent, I’m always here.” I meant every word. I didn’t care if blood stained his hands. He would never use his magic unless he had a good reason for it. Never hurt a soul that deserved nothing less than life.

His lips pulled into a tight smile. “Thank you.”

“How did you get your scars?” I asked, well aware I may be pushing his limit for the afternoon. We had never ventured into this territory before, but I figured now was as good a time as ever.

His pause made me wonder if he would answer. When he did, I wasn’t ready for it. “This stays between us?”

I nodded. “Of course.”