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I clench my fists and have to resist the urge to burst into the room. All that’s stopping me is the fact that doing so would only prove his point.
“Despite all that, she’s a nice girl, and I just want the best for her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ayden asks.
I hear his father sigh loudly again, and I have to strain to hear what he says next.
“You know what I mean, Ayden. I’ve known you all these years, and you know this can’t end well. Sooner or later you’ll hurt her, there’s no doubt in my mind. Don’t get me wrong, I love you, and I’ll always have your back. But you’re just not the type for the kind of relationship that this girl wants. You can’t live up to herexpectations. It’s up to you, but if you really care about Teresa then you should think long and hard about whether you can give her what she really longs for.”
They fall silent, and I quickly dart across to my room. As I’m closing the door, I catch a glimpse of Mr. Collins coming out of Ayden’s room and walking away down the corridor. I lean against the wall and feel my heart thumping in my chest. Mr. Collins’ words echo in my head and then come the tears. Who does he think he is, meddling in our relationship and saying things like that? What does he know?!
Anger bubbles up inside me. I feel like running after him and telling him where to get off. Instead, I try to calm myself and clear my head. It must be even harder for Ayden to hear him say those things.
I square my shoulders, wipe the tears off my face, and go straight over to him. Outside his door, I take another deep breath and knock.
Ayden opens it immediately, but apparently it wasn’t me he was expecting. “Hey,” he says, attempting a smile.
I don’t even try to pretend. “Your father was just here.”
I notice his eyes widen a fraction, and he takes a deep breath.
“He doesn’t seem to like me,” I say.
Ayden quickly reaches out and pulls me into a hug. “It’s not that. It’s more that he’s convinced I’m no good for you.”
He could hardly have said anything more hurtful to me, and I wonder how it must feel for him to know that his own father thinks that way about him.
I look up at him, put my hands on his cheeks, and say, “You know that’s bullshit, right? You don’t really believe him?”
He sighs, and I can see the doubt in his eyes.
“It’s basically true. Before you, no girl ever meant enough for me to want to be with them long term. And even now I’m not sure I’m the right guy for you.”
I shake my head slowly. “We’ve been over all this.”
He nods and tenderly touches my face. “Yeah, but I’m not sure you really understand what that means.”
“Are you talking about those weird experiments and the fact that something could happen to you? What did your father mean? What could go wrong?”
I can’t hide the fact that I was eavesdropping on their conversation. I don’t care what he thinks of me. I just want an answer.
“There’s always a chance that something unexpected could happen. It’s all pretty safe, but they can’t be sure of the long-term consequences. We don’t know if there could be unwanted side effects later on.”
“The tests could make you sick?”
“Or worse.”
I stare at him, my eyes bulging. I want to scream at him and ask him why he would agree to something like this. How can he be willing to take that kind of risk? And for what? So they have an edge in the war against the Noctu? But I pull myself together. I know it won’t help if I lay all that on him. Instead, I try to keep my voice calm and say, “I don’t like it, and I’m not going to pretend that I do. You don’t owe your adoptive father or the Tempes anything. Especially not your life. But I’m not going to try and force you to do anything. It’s your choice. I’ll be here for you and have your back whatever may come.”
I can see how much this means to him, and at the same time, I sense that there’s still a part of him I can’t reach. He’s closing himself off to me, and I can’t help wondering why.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I ask.
He fondles my hair and looks so deeply into my eyes that my pulse races, and a painful knot forms in my stomach.
“Teresa, you mean so much to me. But I’m not sure that’s enough. Do you get what I’m saying? It’s a credit to you that youdon’t want to push me into anything and that you’re prepared to stand by me. But I want you to be happy.”
His fingers move over my skin, as delicate as a breath of air, and my body instinctively records every sensation, locking it away so it never forgets.
