Page 486 of Coal Hearts

He swallowed hard. His voice scratchy and raw. “What does it stand for?”

The fact that he didn’t know.

That he’d probably never been given those three little words even as a child.

Tragic really.

Terrible definitely.

But in the end, I’d been right.

Love was his greatest weakness.

Not me.

He thought it was me because each time he used my name, he mentioned the very thing that petrified him.

A surge of sleepiness.

A cloak of foggy night.

I snuggled deeper into the bed as I yawned. “I.L.Y....it means I Love You.”

Henri leapt to his feet. “Quoi?” (What?)

“I love you...” I struggled to stay awake, a heavy anchor on my mind.

“You mean every time I use your name, I’m saying I fucking love you?”

“Yep.” I nodded, the room swimming.

Yep.

What a strange word.

What are words anyway?

How did someone come up with letters and then squish them into a language?

Do we even need language?

I knew what Henri was feeling most of the time without it. I sensed him. Some people said they even saw auras. Perhaps our ability to speak got in the way of our truth because the truth was there for all to see if we just opened our eyes instead of our ears.

I skipped out of time.

I fought the undertow of rest and forced my gaze open.

Aww, poor guy.

He looked rather freaked.

I giggled at the way he strangled the tub of cream, eyes wild, legs braced. “It’s okay, Hen.”

Now he looked really freaked.

It was kind of adorable.

“Hen?” he coughed.