Page 37 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
A joyful whimper flies from my lips. Everything inside me crystallizes. I raise up on tiptoes, and it’s as easy as falling. It’s so effortless to finally,finallycross this hated distance.
But Weston pulls back from my advance, just a bit. He hovers for a moment that borders on endless, then makes a sound—purely male, infinitely frustrated—and tears himself away.
My knees nearly buckle. “No. No, what? What’re you doing?”
He stalks toward the wall beside the fireplace, where he drops his head and presses curled fists against the stone, his back tight. I think he’s shaking.
“Come back here and kiss me,” I almost wail.
“I can’t, Birdie. Curses, youknowthat.”
Silence swamps me, binding my tongue.
“For all the reasons I just told you, I can’t. I won’t.” He unleashes a bitter chuckle and pummels the wall with a fist.
I wince at the tender sound of leather against rock, but if it pains him, he gives no sign.
“All I can ever be to you is a liability. And I’m not going to take away your safety—yourfuture—just so I can have one, too.”
Part of me goes dark. Just dies away between one moment and the next, the light from earlier extinguished like a shuttered lantern. “No. What? What about what I want? What if Iwant togiveyou my future? What if I want to share it with you?”
Another chuckle, this one edged in ruthlessness. “Then I guess you’ll finally find out what it’s like to not get what you want.”
I recoil. It’s a cruel thing to say, and I know why he’s doing it. To reinforce this separation. To buttress this uncrossable inch that somehow stretches across miles.
But that doesn’t make it okay.
“Don’t be mean,” I say to his back.
He raises his head, as if girded by my accusation. “I am mean, though. You say you love me, and Fortuna help me, I love you so much, and want you so badly, that I can’t see anything else, sometimes. But I. Am. Mean.” He gives the wall another punch and pushes off to face me.
I press my lips together, trying to fence in the hurt that’s piling in my throat.
“And I’m rude,” he says. “And aggressive. And violent. I’m everything your parents warn you about, and I’m not good for you, Birdie. I can’t be. No matter how much I wish I could. So don’t ask me to kiss you. You should be kissing someone else. Anyone but me.”
I stomp my bare foot against the floorboards, a weak protest that doesn’t require the heroism of words.
“I’m going to stay away from you,” he mutters, as if trying to convince the both of us. “My aunt’s almost better now, anyway. I can’t risk her again by being here. I never should’ve gotten near her in the first place. But once she leaves, you can stay. You can hide here for as long as you like. I’ll do...anything. I’ll lead the duke’s men in circles for the rest of my life.I’ll kill anyone who gets close. Whatever you want. But I can’t be here. I can’t be near you.”
With that, he turns and makes for the door, and this time, I don’t stop him.
Because I’m wrecked. Held together by nothing but the tendrils of my rapidly fraying pride.
Fortuna help me, I’m sick to death of him walking away from me like this.
This, I vow, will be the last time I ever let him.
Chapter Thirteen
Another week crawls by.
I spend most of it in bed, listless. Knowing Weston loves me should nourish me—it’s everything I’ve craved, laid bare and defenseless at last. Yet every time I relive those moments of confession, the memory dissolves into sticky, gluey pieces that burn my eyes and make my temples ache.
We may love each other, but we’re no closer to having a future together. In fact, one has never felt further from reach.
On the sixth day of wallowing, I decide it’s time to distract myself.
Instead of lounging around in my nightgown, I put on an actual dress, and the next day, I graduate to walking outside in the woods. Over the next week, the strolls become habit. I ramble beneath the cool dome of the forest, soaking up the late September sunshine, a basket hooked over my elbow. I forage for blackberries and elderberries, trusting my luck to keep me from choosing anything poisonous, and tuck interesting-looking pinecones and rocks in amongmy stash. Back at the cabin, I set out the berries for Weston as an offering. And he takes them. At least he does that.
