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She sits up. "I would never hate you."
"No more than what you already do?"
"I’m pissed at you." She narrows her gaze. "And I don’t understand you. And you confuse me a lot with your actions. And I don’t want to say I’m fine with your stalking tendencies and how you’re obsessively into me, enough that you didn’t want me to marry anyone else, enough for you to plant devices in my room and in my Kindle, but a part of me almost understands—" she squeezes the bridge of her nose, "I can’t believe I’m saying this but, it’s almost flattering that you want me so much. So no, I don’t hate you, but I don’t agree with your methodology, either."
"And I can only agree with everything you say."
"Why are you being so agreeable?"
"Why shouldn’t I be?"
She purses her lips. "I think I prefer you being your usual alternating between growling at me and being cold toward me."
"All of which has always been a cover for the depth of what I feel for you."
"I know that now. So I doubt you can tell me anything more that will make me hate you."
"We’ll see." I square my shoulders.
"You sound like you want me to hate you."
"Maybe your hate is easier than any other emotions. Maybe I’m scared that one day, you’ll love me, and then what am I going to do?"
"You’ll accept it, Eddie. That’s what you’ll do. You’ll accept the fact that you can be loved. That you’re worthy of it. Whatever happened to you in the past does not define you. Your future doesn’t define you. Power and money don’t define you." She places a hand over where my heart beats in erratic thumps. "This… What is inside you, this goodness, this man who has always wanted to help others, who still helps others—"
"No, I don’t."
"You signed off on the quotes for the nursery, and then for Adela to help me out, without blinking an eye."
"I had a vested interest in that."
"You give away a lot of what you make from your investments to charity."
I blink.
"Don’t deny it. I found out from Summer, so I know it’s true."
"Hmm, I need to have a talk with her," I scowl.
"That’s what I mean. You do these things and then pretend it doesn’t mean much, when it does. Most people who have money use it to make more for themselves. They don’t go about donating it to charitable causes."
"I don’t need the money, so I donate it. It doesn’t mean anything." I raise my shoulder. "Besides, it makes a difference between life and death for so many others."
"That’s what I'm talking about. You don’t even realize how much of a softie you are."
I blink slowly. "You sound like you almost like me."
"I don’t dislike you," she murmurs.
I suppose, that’s a start. And why am I trying to talk her out of it, when all I want is for her to feel a fraction of what I feel for her?
"I just wish you'd realize, it’s as important for you to learn to accept as it is to give. If you can’t accept what people offer you, then it’s as if you look down on the people who accept from you."
"What? No. I’d never do that."
"Then why is so difficult for you to receive the concern I have for you?"
She’s right. I've shunned anybody showing understanding about how the incident affected me. I hate it when people pretend to identify with what I’ve been through. I turned my back on any sympathy my parents tried to show me. Not that they tried particularly hard, but I rebuffed any efforts on their part. I made it difficult for them to care for me in any way. I’ve even kept the Seven at arms-length, despite the fact we went through the incident together. And when Baron and Ava got together, I distanced myself from both of them. I stopped communicating with Baron—the one person who knows exactly what I went through; he was there with me. He suffered almost everything I did.Almost.For even he doesn’t know the extent to which I was hurt… But he has a good idea. More than the rest of the Seven. More than anyone else, except her. And it’s not because I’ve told her much, but she’s looked behind my facade, she…has an inkling.
