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Does Briar really think the good she’s done for me and my family boils down to nothing because she has motives beyond helping us? Does she really think that using her powers for good makes her undeserving of the admiration that follows?
Last I checked, when you work hard to be the kind of person people want to be around, that work is nothing more or less than the depiction of your character.
People who manipulate other people to make their lives easier display a different kind of character entirely.
Briar needed Veleno to help corner the Maxim Project.
She did not need to help me feel like I could finally breathe for the first time in thirty-eight years.
Logic demands I recognize all the good she’s done in my life. Logic demands I recognize that people don’t blush on cue.
I’ve seen her wasted, begging for someone to take her misery away.
Sometimes when she looks at me I feel like I’m her only hope.
Often, when I look at her, I feel the same way.
What hurt her so badly she thinks she needs to keep the entire world at bay by pretending she’s made up of make believe? How does she convince herself that moments like right now are just another part of her elaborate ploys?
Whatever caused her to lose herself, I hope she’ll let me help find her again soon.
Reaching the kitchen, I secure an orange from one of the fruit baskets on the marble counter. Peeling it, I hand a slice back to my tag-a-long.
She shifts slightly, stares at the meager offering, then pouts. “That’s playing dirty.”
“Why? Are you allergic to oranges?”
“No…” She takes the slice and lifts it to her lips.
All around us, staff bustle, adhering to the four-month meal plan I put together around the time family members started to come by in the mornings. The color-coded schedule plasters the far wall, and the scent of porridge and bacon wafts into the air.
I pull off another slice.
“If you tell me what you meant, I’ll kiss you,” Briar murmurs.
“I can kiss you whenever I want.”
“That’s called assault.”
“Only if you’re unwilling.” I give her another piece. “Would you be unwilling?”
Resting nearly her full weight against my chest, she settles at my side to nibble her orange. “Of course.”
I kiss her forehead. “Pity. Aggravated assault is already on my list of crimes.”
“Sexual assault isn’t.” Her gaze cuts toward me. “Right?”
“Gotta catch ’em all.”
She frees a deep sigh. “Rowan, you shouldn’t joke about that.”
I really shouldn’t. It’s all I’ve been fighting against for months. And, yet… “Briar. Are you calling my humor criminal?”
Her eyes close as she presses her lips together. “That was terrible.”
“Should be illegal, really.” Curling my finger beneath her chin, I dip down for a kiss, taste citrus on her tongue, and hum. “Guess I’m not filling that Bingo spot today.”
“You better never fill that Bingo spot,” she mutters, holding up her hand.
