Page 104 of The Omega Princess

“No, you’re not,” I said. “People do not fall in love with me.”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Well, I’m not going.”

I rounded on him, clenching both of my hands in fists. “I just said that I would feel guilty if you didn’t. I can’t have you making sacrifices for me.”

“No?” He lifted his shoulders. “Why not?”

“Because… because… people resent you when you ask them to do that shit for you.”

“Not always.”

I pounded my fists into my thighs. “I don’t want that from you.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” he said. “You’re begging me for it. You want me to inconvenience myself for you, to choose you, to put your needs higher than my own, not all the time, but sometimes, when it’s important for you, and do you want to know why you want that?”

“Because I’m a jackass?” I said, not even denying that some part of me did want that.

“Because you’re a human fucking being,” he said. “Everyone wants that from the people they love. That’s how we show love to each other, right? When you love someone, you do things for them. Sometimes, you make sacrifices for them. You make space in your life for their needs and wants, and you cater to them. It’s, like, the definition of a fucking relationship of any kind, not even romantic. That’s the bare minimum you do for a friend.”

My guts turned inside out. My throat felt tight. My heart started pounding. “I have to go,” I managed, and I ran out of his room.

He came after me.

I wasn’t even halfway down the stairs in Windsing Palace before he grabbed me and made me stop.

“Let me go,” I gasped. At this point, tears were streaming down my face. I wanted a cigarette more than anything on earth, but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to smoke one. I was going to go out somewhere and get wasted drunk instead, just numb myself out. I needed this to stop, whatever this feeling was, because it was not safe.

He held up his hands, palms up. “I’m not forcing you to do anything.”

I shifted on my feet. “People don’t really do that for each other, though.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Cater to their wants. Care about them. Make sacrifices. I mean, fuck, Rohan, our parents sure as shit didn’t do that for us.”

“Mine did,” he said. “I mean… they could be assholes sometimes, but when push came to shove, when it mattered…” He gave me a small smile. “Of course this is about your mom.”

I tangled a hand in my hair. “No.”

“Eleri’s not wrong about the therapy, you know?”

“I didn’t want her to go to Spesseta,” I said.

“You mean your mom?”

“It was my birthday, and she forgot. And I threw a fit, and she got the way she always got, which was to start crying and talk about how much pain she was in. ‘Oh, Sinny, I need this, I’ve been so sad lately. I have to have some me time.’ I usually would cave to her, be sympathetic. Her pain mattered, you know, that was the way with her. If I just buried my own pain and cared about her pain, that was the way with her. But that time, I couldn’t. It was my birthday.” I shook my head.

“And then, she drowned,” he whispered. “If she’d cared about you, she’d still be alive.”

“I don’t mean it like—”

He tugged me against his chest. “Fuck, Sinclair. Fuck. The more I think about how you’ve been this open wound, bleeding all over us, and no one’s even tried to help heal you, the angrier I get.”

I struggled, but not very hard. He was so strong, and he smelled so good. I let him hold me instead. “I’m not an open wound,” I muttered.

He snorted.

I fought my way free just enough to look into his eyes. I let him hold me against him. “There’s no healing, whatever the case.”

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