Page 26 of At The End There Was You

“Some choices, Winter, they get better or worse when you make them. You can regret making choices. You can make mistakes in choosing. You are allowed. But to do all that, you have to have choices.”

“So you regret coming here?”

There was a pause as he stared at her, and said, “Not even a little.” He put the book on the table and leaned against it, sliding his hands in his pockets. “What were they like? Your parents.” From the way he grit his teeth at the word parents, Winter knew he wanted to add more to that question.

He’d not asked her anything difficult, but she couldn’t find the words for an answer. Of course she knew them. She knew what they liked and how they smelled and who their friends were and their favourite foods, she even knew her mother’s favourite colour. She knew so many things that it could take her days and weeks to list. So why did she say, “There.”

“There?”

“They were just…there.”

“Did they love you in the end?”

The question took her aback. Then she remembered the words she’d told him the day before. “Of course they did,” she said with an incredulous smile, but felt her eyes burn. “All parents love their children.”

There was no emotion on his face when he said, “Not mine.”

Her feigned smile fell entirely. “Why not?”

“I do not care for their reasons.” He swivelled another slow look over the room, almost lost in thought. “And you, did you love them?”

“Yes, I did.” With all she had, and so much more. “You?”

He paused at her question and looked at her. His eyes were so cold, so dark, with so many shadows. “In the end, it doesn’t matter if we love them or not if they do not love you back.”

Winter was astounded for a moment. The answer was so unlike him even though it seemed like an answer he’d give. “That is not true.”

He pushed from the table and closed the small space between them entirely. “Why is it not, Winter?”

“Because you said it matters what we want, like, think, desire, love.”

He smiled at her. He really smiled at her and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Very well. You learn well.”

Winter had been touched, but never that gently, never from such cold gentle hands. “Will you not answer me truly? Did you not love your parents?”

“It would change the way you look at me.”

“How so?”

“Because I didn’t.”

She nodded to herself. “You must have a reason.”

“Not everything has a reason.”

“Tell me this does.”

“It might not be enough.”

“Azriel.”

His hand stopped on her cheek, his thumb slightly grazing her bottom lip, and she briefly lost the ability to breathe. “They made me become something of fear. Something that only brings chaos and pain when I was incapable of inflicting either of them.”

“I see.” She truly did. Winter did not know the Azriel outside the Sanctum grounds; she didn’t need to, though, to know that he was none of the things he thought his parents had made him.

“You believe me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”