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No. No. No.
He wasn't doing that. Nope.
This was not her plan. He was spoiling her plan. She was going to wallow and then send him a recorded explanation and divorce papers. He wasn’t supposed to say he missed her, not now. He wasn’t supposed to call her rainbow, not now. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to hold her like she mattered to him, not now.
She stayed stiff, pursing her lips.
“Talk to me, please.”
No.
She had nothing to say.
His hand went down her arm, taking a hold of her hand, twisting the ring that she had on her finger, the ring she’d taken with such hope. He intertwined their fingers together, his hand rough and large and so, so tender with hers.
Her nose stung.
He wasn’t supposed to do this.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her neck.
He needed to stop.
And what was he sorry for? For leaving her when she’d been eighteen? For not remembering her? For not even trying with them now? For not accepting her love and not trusting her and keeping his distance? For leading a life that had hardened him to the point she’d bled on the barbed wires around his heart? None of it was his fault. He didn’t do that on purpose. He was just who he was, and she was who she was, and maybe, just maybe, they weren’t meant to be.
“Talk to me, rainbow,” he murmured against her ear. “Please.”
No.
He needed to go and not make this harder for them.
She swallowed, keeping her eyes closed, memorizing him again with all her senses.
“I don’t know how I lost my eye,” he began quietly. “My memory around that time… it’s a blank. I don’t remember if it was an accident or someone trying to kill me. It could have been either. I don’t remember a lot from that part.”
Zephyr stilled, unsure at why he was sharing it now. She’d begged him for crumbs of himself, and he’d rejected her over and over. And though the girl in her felt for him, the woman was mad.
She stayed silent.
“You were a part of my memories, weren’t you?” he asked softly, making something inside her tremble. Screw him for making her feel like this.
“Yeah.” She hated the way her voice cracked.
She felt his relief at her response. “Were we together?”
She nodded mutely.
“Did we break up?”
No. They hadn’t.
“You left me,” she told him, keeping her eyes closed. “You’d told me to wait, that you had something to show me, and you never came back. I didn’t know why, not until I saw you at the fight. Now, I know something must have happened, whatever took your eye. For ten years, I didn’t know. I wondered if you’d died, if you’d abandoned me, if you'd simply lost interest.”
His hand rubbed over her belly. “I don’t remember.”
“I know,” she croaked. “It’s okay.”
God, she hated confrontations, but it was the best they hashed it all out now.
