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“Then let me.”
He shook his head and brushed her hand aside.
“Please,” he said. “Leave me be.”
His words cut through her soul. She withdrew, and he rolled onto his side, his back to her.
“I cannot give you want you want, Atalanta.”
Her heart ached at the pain in his words, and she placed her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll leave you be, Devon, if that’s what you wish—but do you evenknowwhat I want?”
A warm hand [took hers and linked her fingers with his, and his chest rose and fell in a sigh.
“Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “I know you’re hurting, and I’ll do everything I can to ease your pain. Sometimes you need solitude—to go where I cannot always follow. And I’ll grant you leave to go there, my love, in the hope that you’ll always come back to me. I love you with all my soul, Devon. Nothing you can say—or do—will ever change that.”
She caressed his hand, but he did not respond. His steady breathing told her he’d fallen asleep.
