Page 88 of Heart of the High King
“You’ve always struck me as a fighter.”
Rafe eased his head back against the chair and laughed. “I think it’s a new ‘me’ trait.”
“One thing you’ve done since the moment I met you is sell yourself short when it comes to attributes.”
“What in the world about me convinced you to befriend me? Was it just the whole Fate thing?”
“That certainly started it, but you know we got along very well. Let’s not pretend different now, okay?”
“I know that, Sander. I’m not arguing that. I’ve just always wondered how you could look at me then, and even more so now, and think that you’d want to have any sort of relationship with me.”
“Stop making it sound like you’re a giant pile of shit or something equally detestable. You think I give a fuck that you have scars? What? What exactly is it that you think is so offensive?”
“Dammit, look at me. I’m a fucking mess. All you see is the scars on my face and hands. I’m covered in them.”
“I think our society is warped. That’s what I’m learning. That because we have beasts who heal and magic wells that do the same, we think anything that isn’t ‘perfection’ isn’t beautiful. What you are covered in are badges of courage, Rafe. I see them, and I hurt for you because I know whatever happened it wasn’t pretty, but that’s not what I focus on. I see your face and in your eyes are your feelings and thoughts. Because we’re friends…nearly a year of separation hasn’t done a damn thing to change that.”
Properly chastised for suggesting that Aleksander would only be interested in the physical shell, Rafe’s mouth twisted. “Sorry, I made you sound vain, which is stupid considering—”
“If you say anything regarding your looks, I’m going to find a way to punish you. Maybe I’ll eat rosemary potatoes right in front of you.”
“Those are my favorite.”
“I know. I remember. And I’d have them with pumpernickel bread and a grilled steak.”
“What did I ever see in you?”
Aleksander laughed. “You tell me.”
“I’m not in a good enough mood to fill your head with compliments, but I do like your haircut. Tell me something.”
“Let’s not talk about hair. I can’t even deal with how much I love those curls, and what do you want to know?”
Rafe’s smile was both reluctant and unavoidable at Aleksander’s praise. “What did you think when I wouldn’t answer your texts?”
“At first, I had no idea how to react, but then when you told me that you needed space, I had to honor that. Was that right after you got hurt or before?”
Rafe had never sent Aleksander a text like that, but he guessed it was Sullivan—or maybe it was his father—who’d told his mate that. Grabbing his walker, Rafe pulled himself out of the chaise and promised himself he’d use his wheelchair for the rest of the day. Tiring faster, he wondered how fast the cancer was growing inside him. There was no way to answer Aleksander without giving away who was responsible so Rafe simply said, “I should get back to work.”
