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I didn’t mean to tense up and diminish the afterglow. But I also know that weshouldn’thave done this. I’m eleven years older than him. He’s been through, fuck, he’s been through unimaginable trauma and has losteverything.
He deserves to be free. To find himself, whoever that is and wherever it takes him. But my life is here, tied to this place, theBlack Stump, and the Woods. He deserves more, to experience life on his terms.
And I know, Iknow, that if I let myself have him—really have him—I will never be able to let him go.
“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Roan. But I will not do this again. Not have the most incredible experience of my fucking life and have you rip it from me with your fucked up noble ideals.”
If his words were venom, I’d be dead twice over with the way he spits them at me, stabbing his finger for added effect. Beard rash and anger flush his skin, the tips of his pointed ears fiery red. “Get it together. I deserve better.” The pain in his broken voice is palpable. His head shakes, his eyes low, his copper curls a mess from the floor and my hands.
“I fucking deserve better.” His final words are whispered, almost to himself, and finish with a nod.
I desperately want to reach out, to stop him, explain everything. That it’s nothim, it's howmuchI want him, but Ican’t.
My mouth flaps uselessly, my brain unable to scramble together the thoughts to tell him that even though I need him more than the air I breathe, I can’t have him. It’s notright. My stupid lizard brain knows that not having isn’t right either, and I’m left withnothing.
Nothing but his look of disgust before he stalks from the room and out of the house without a backwards glance. Maybe it’s better this way, better that he doesn’t think I want him like I do. It might hurt now, but it could save more pain in the future. If I can’t give Theo what he needs, it’s best to let him go.
The thought slices through me like a knife, stealing my breath and making my heart squeeze violently.
Indecision flares once more when I hear his footsteps on the floor below me, and I can see myself chasing after him, wrappinghim in my arms and promising him the world, whatever he wants, to forgive me. Have me however he wants me.
I see myself walking away from the Black Stump, my home, Mauvy, everything, to follow him to wherever he wants to go. But the slamming of the front door pulls me back into bitter reality.
I can’t leave the Black Stump. I can’t, in all good conscience, tie him here, either. And I can’t have him a little bit, without needing it all. So, I stay frozen in place, on the floor of Inigo’s cottage terrified of what I’ve done.
Theo
It has been threedays sincethe incident. That being the one where Roan made me come so hard I saw stars and then acted like I was a leper. And in those three days, I have regressed into being the sad little gremlin in my cocoon.
But it isn’t as satisfying this time. It feels like defeat. I’ve come so far, and this feels like too many steps back.
My books lie discarded on the table next to the food I’d stopped eating again. Tor had come to visit yesterday with Caelan, fresh from their trip to the city, Caelan’s truck loaded with all of my stuff from home. Well, itwashome at least.
They’d been so excited to see me after stories that I’d not only gotten out of bed, but I’d left the tavern and even talked to people outside of our little group.
Because Ihadtalked to them, and that was another thing I missed since I hadn’t gone down to see Roan over the last three days. Missing it has only made me madder.
Seldon has still come to see me a couple of times a day, just like right now, where I’m ignoring him pawing through my suitcases Tor had left.
But over the last week, I’d started to chat with the customers. It was awkward at first, when they asked about the cottage or included me in random conversations they were having around me, but it wasnice.
“Can I have this?” Seldon breaks through my pity party to hold up a cream cashmere sweater. It would be far too small for him, but considering the cropped shirt riding up his back and exposing the baby blue lace of his lingerie, I’m thinking that may be the point.
“Have whatever you want.” At first I’m not sure if he can hear me over the muffle of the blankets wrapped around me. But the ruffling of him digging further into my suitcase reassures me he did. Or he doesn’t care and decided to pillage my belongings anyway. He roots through the clothes like a man on a mission, pulling things out, holding them up for inspection, and tossing them back in with careless disregard for the careful way Caelan—and it was very definitely Caelan and not my pampered brother—had folded my belongings.
“So,” he declares, flopping dramatically onto the bed when he is finally done picking over the remnants of my old life. I bounce in my nest from the force of it. “Are we done with this, yet? Because I’m telling you, as a friend who cares about you, you need to be done with this now.” He waves at my situation, encompassing my patheticness.
He’s right, I may hate it, but that doesn’t change the truth. So, I fight to pull myself out of the covers until my head is finally free. With a humph, I petulantly try to blow an errant curl out of my face, but it just lands right back where it was. Seldon beams at me like I’m a child accomplishing a great feat. Ugh.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on and why Roan has been stomping around downstairs like a sad, angry puppy who’s lost his favourite toy?”
I’ve never actually had a friend that I could confide in before, and suddenly the urge to spill my guts to him is almost irresistible. But I bite my tongue, pulling the quilt back up and over my face. Seldon’s chuckle is muffled, and there is the creak of my door opening and shutting.
“Whyis he back in there?” Dear Gods, it’s Edith. Absolutely not. I may have groaned my displeasure too loudly because Seldon laughs again.
“Ithinksomething has gone wrong with Roan.” There is another bounce as Edith throws herself on the bed, her weight a comforting presence on my legs.
“Yeah, I saw him downstairs. Mauvy is out for blood. He was yelling at Woodsy about a keg spill. Hildy was in tears about something else. His head is so far up his own ass I think his horns have gotten stuck up there.”
