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I don’t know whether or not to be offended. I’m glad she decided she wants to “keep” me, but I’m still hurt that she even considered getting rid of me. I thought we were past that. “I see.”
“Well, if you want to kiss me now, I won’t say no,” Bethiah tells me brightly.
I consider for a moment and then shake my head. “I’m not feeling very amorous at the moment. Sorry.” I take the cloth from her and hop off the bed, trying to hide my hurt. “We should probably get dressed for breakfast anyhow. Hazza said she was going to make me her special egg dish.”
Maybe if I get some time to process, I’ll feel less wounded.
Fifty-Six
BETHIAH
“What did you do to the little one?” Yaahi glares at me over her tea.
“Me? I didn’t do kef-all!” I glare back. “And I don’t appreciate the insinuation.”
“It’s no insinuation,” Yaahi declares. “Just look at her.”
I do. And I wince. Because Dora’s nose is swollen and bright red, and there’s a dark bruise under one eye, as if the swelling is somehow spreading to the rest of her delicate face. To make matters worse, her normally sunny disposition is missing this morning. She looks sad and morose, glumly toying with her breakfast. Even Hazza’s happy chatter isn’t bringing a smile to her face.
My fluffit looks miserable.
“Okay, that might be my fault, yeah.” I grimace. “She got a horn to the nose earlier and then she found out I was thinking about leaving her here. Now she’s mad at me.” I rub my mouth. Kef, humans are difficult. I’d forgotten how emotional they can be.
“Explain.”
Bossy female. I like her. So I tell her about Dora, how I’d thought about leaving her here but changed my mind, and how she’d still been wounded by the realization that we’d even been considering it. “Apparently that was the wrong tactic.”
Yaahi inclines her head in a knowing way. “She is hurt because she wishes to be invaluable to you, and you seek to foist her off upon others.”
“There’s no foisting! And even if there was, it’d be a very delicate, gentle foist. And anyhow, this was your idea. I blame you.” I shrug. “So there.”
“I assumed she sought safety.” Yaahi looks unruffled by my accusation. “There is no safer place than here with us. So I must come to the conclusion that perhaps she is with you out of more than just a need to be safe?” Her whiskers twitch. “This is a very remote possibility given your personality, but could it be that she cares for you?”
“Shut up,” I mutter. But she’s not wrong. Dora has made it clear that she actually likes me. And she adores Jamef. They’re cute as kef together…aaaand now I just feel worse. “I guess she doesn’t feel very appreciated right now.”
“I cannot imagine why.” Yaahi takes another sip of her tea. “You tried to give her to strangers as if she’s an unwanted pet. I cannot imagine how that would be hurtful. She must be an overly sensitive sort.”
I narrow my eyes at this praxiian harridan. How dare she be right. She ignores me, continuing to sip her tea with a smug look on her whiskers. “Maybe I’m not great at communicating how I feel. Maybe I have a hard time opening up and Dora’s being affected by it.”
“Why?”
“Why is she being affected?”
Yaahi shakes her head. “Why do you find it hard to open up to people? You are attractive and strong-willed. You are clever. Why are you afraid of someone as small as her? Why do you find it hard to open up to her?”
Because the wounds that people give your heart take ten times longer to heal than anything else.
Because I don’t like being vulnerable. Or made to feel foolish.
Because I’m afraid I’m not going to be enough—or too much—for anyone.
I wave a careless hand at Yaahi. “Let’s just say I’ve been burned in the past.”
“Mmm.” She eyes me over her cup. “If you burn your mouth upon your noodles, do you just never eat again?”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, you need food to survive.”
“But not love?” Yaahi regards me with a look that might be close to pity. “I am not here to judge you, Bethiah —”
Could have fooled me.
“—but I will say that your Dora is a very emotion-driven creature. She desperately wants love and attention. What will it hurt to give her what she needs? Do you think she would ask for too much? Demand more than you can give her? Be unreasonable? She seems a sweet, easygoing creature to me.”
She is. And that’s the problem. Dora is too sweet, too kind, too forgiving. She’s nothing like Rhonda, and that means she’s far more dangerous to my heart. I chew on my lip and glance over at Dora again. She’s trying desperately to smile for Hazza, who keeps pushing more food onto her plate, but it’s clear her heart isn’t in things.
