Page 46 of Heartsong
Yes, having some sort of wild romance with this big brute of a man, who loved playing card games with her and singing old shanties off-key to make her laugh, might be nice. Wonderful. Amazing.
But would it last?
Would it even really be real?
No. She couldn’t see how.
Pulling her hand out from under his, she tucked it beneath her other arm.
“You don’t know me, Frey.”
Another annoyed huff flared his nostrils. She was testing the guy’s patience, she could tell, but so what. He was testing hers with all this romantic bullshit that made her heart ache. He hadno rightto make her want to cry over how lonely she was nor fill her heart with soppy hopes and dreams.
Eventually, he’d leave. Everyone did.
Whether with his people or just to get out of her apartment, he’d leave and not come back. Anna knew it, and it was time he started being honest with himself.
“I’mtryingto know you, my Anna. I want to know everything. But you fight me at every turn.”
His face was all frowns and scowls, his frustration apparent. Something in her sympathized; she knew she was being a brat, running hot and cold. The man had made herdinnerand she wasn’t acting very grateful. But she didn’t know what to do with this mythical man and his mate spiel.
It’d be so easy to fall into his words. In that little weekend bubble they’d had, when they just hung out in the evenings, everything felt almost…perfect. Comfortable. Like they were…friends. Anna hadn’t had friends in a long time. She craved it, though—but all this mate talk was too much, striking too close to all the most vulnerable, broken parts of her she hated looking at.
And if she could hardly bear to look at the worst of herself, how could she ever think anyone else would?
He didn’tknowher. He didn’t see her. And if he ever did, he’d wish he hadn’t.
Why couldn’t this all have happened in a few years? She was just now getting on her feet, able to meet goals and start a better life. She was making progress, and while it was messy, it was something. And now everything was a jumbled mess.
Maybe if she’d met him in a few years, she’d feel on a better standing to truly consider what he was saying. Or at least let him have his mate bond ideas and still pursue something with him. Maybe future Anna would be ready for someone like Frey and everything he entailed.
But this Anna wasn’t.
Pushing her chair back, she said, “Can we be done? I don’t…”
Frey’s wings drooped down to his shoulders, covering them in a leathery cloak. He hadn’t done such a move since those first days, and to see him do it, almost like he was hiding himself away, hurt.
“Yes, my Anna. We can be done for the night.”
She didn’t miss his caveat, but she was too tired to stress more about it. Silently, she cleaned up the remains of their meal, ignoring his protests that he would tidy up.
Blinking back her frustrated tears as she scrubbed the dishes, Anna railed at herself for ruining such a nice gesture. The guy was trying to at least be a decent roommate. She was truly touched; nobody had made her dinner in ages.
The day had been so much between the weird patron and the even weirder vibe of the museum post-theft. She’d spent all afternoon stressing about when and where the detective would show up for follow-up interviews. The wind had been biting and the grocery store lines long. Everything had just conspired to make this a no good, very bad day.
Then Frey had made dinner. And fed Cappy.
By the time the dishes were washed and leftovers packed away, Anna had mustered the courage to face Frey long enough to say, “Thank you again for making dinner, that was really sweet.”
His wings were still folded about his shoulders, secured by the two claws hooked together, and his expression had turned somber. He looked as tired as she felt.
“Always, my Anna. It is the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”
She nodded, not knowing what else to do. “It’s been a long day and I…I think I’m just going to go to bed. We’ll watch something tomorrow, okay?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Good night.”
