Page 85 of Found in Wild Sage

My gut tightens with a mix of guilt and longing. “I didn’t mean for it to be confusing.”

I run a hand through my hair and watch as Charlie uses a perfect little pincer grasp to hold a square of toast. He’s a good eater, and I’m grateful for this time to talk, but part of me wants to run away.

If I don’t, very soon, I’ll have to clarify everything. She deserves that. But it might—it’ll hurt.

She exhales and paces over to the stove, grabbing the pan I used for the eggs and placing it in the sink.

“I don’t understand what happened. Did I do something wrong?” She rests her hands at the edge of the sink, still facing away from me.

My heart aches. “No. No, you’ve done nothing wrong, love. I—” My jaw snaps shut and my teeth grind.

She turns. “Please just tell me. I can’t figure it out on my own, okay? I don’t know what’s supposed to happen. I’ve never been with someone like you, Dec, and I didn’t think about how messy this would be.”

She sniffs and I realize she’s on the verge of crying. I hate that I’ve caused her distress, even though I saw evidence of it plain as day last week, too.

“I have feelings for you, Evie. And I can’t force those on you. It’s not fair. You’re grateful to me, yes, but I⁠—”

“I’m grateful? Of course I am! How could I not be when you’ve done so much for us? Declan, we’re living with you. You made us breakfast!”

She says it like it’s a moral failing and I have no idea how to respond except with the facts. “Exactly. Exactly. You see each of these things as something you’re incurring a debt for. I don’t see it that way at all. I only see how you two being here has made my life immeasurably better, but Evie…” I take a slow breath to calm myself and step forward, needing to touch her when I say this. My hand comes to her forearm and I cup it. “I can’t be with someone I care about who doesn’t feel the same. I can’t have you pretending because you’re grateful.”

Her face falls and she rears back almost like I’ve slapped her. But she’s not hurt, she’s stunned.

“Last night, you said I think I owe you.” Her throat works on a swallow. “Is that what you mean? You think I’d sleep with you as a kind of payment for marrying me? You think I’d pretend to care about you?”

It sounds awful when she says it like that. “I don’t mean that you’d use yourself to—to—to pay me or something. I only mean that I’ve been through something like this before—not marriage, but being with someone lovely who ended up staying because she felt she should, not because she wanted to, and I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. I want you, but I can’t stomach the thought of you doing anything you don’t actually actively desire.”

There’s a beat of silence. In this slip of a moment, I see a flash of anger on her face. My mind is a jumble of words that make no sense, and I’m frantic to help her understand, but she breaks everything wide open.

“I think you should go get cleaned up and we’ll walk to work soon.”

I blink and stand there like the brainless mannequin I apparently am. “Evie, I’m sorry.”

“If you apologize again, I’m going to lose my mind, okay?” She’s got a fake smile on her face and her voice is syrupy and unnaturally calm. “I am really angry with you, but I want to have this discussion later after I’ve had a chance to formulate my thoughts. Okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Just, please, know that I’m not⁠—”

“Declan, please.”

“Okay. I’ll go.”

I want to beg her to tell me when we can talk again. Or even what she’s angry about. I’m not sure I know, and I’m incensed with myself that I’ve hurt her and I can’t even parse out why. Likely because I insinuated she’d prostitute herself, though I’d like to think she knows I don’t think that. I don’t mean that.

I hesitate at the stairs, mind screaming for something I can do or say to convey that I know this is on me. I’ve hurt her, confused her, maybe even made her feel led on in a bizarre twist. And now I’ve insulted her and made her angry.

Knowing the best thing I can do is respect her wishes, I head up, praying with each step I take that she’ll forgive me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Evie

Dr. Declan Ryan and I move around each other all day. Even Maggie gives me a look when I refuse to meet his eye at one point.

I’m not trying to punish him or be rude. I’m genuinely trying to hold it together.

I am so angry with him I can hardly see straight, and so sad and hurt for him that I want to shake him and hug him and hold him. He has made so many assumptions and despite our promising to be honest with each other, clearly, we’ve failed to communicate effectively.

So I’ve been formulating my response, and as the day has worn on, I’ve come up with a plan.