Page 57 of Balance
A low sniffle.
Damn it, she wasactuallycrying. I shouldn’t be surprised, but the sound of it caused my hair to stand on end and my teeth to clench so tightly I thought they might break.
What the hell was I doing?
My pride forgotten, I grabbed one of the still-rolled up sleeping bags and an extra lantern and I made my way to the tent. This wasn’t the time to be a coward. We had to clear the air between us.
“Bianca.” I knelt at the opening, using my free hand to grope around for the zipper. “I’m coming in.”
“G-g-go away.” Her voice shook with grief, and the sound tore at me. Every stutter was a reminder of my failures.
This was ultimately my fault.
I should haveknownthat something wasn’t right with Bailey. And even though he was older, Titus had looked to me for direction.
“I can’t do that.” I sucked in a breath, steeling my courage, and unzipped the tent with one quick movement. I couldn’t let her shut me out again.
The soft light from the fire barely touched the recesses of her shelter, throwing her form into shadows. But what I could see was enough to melt away the last of my pride.
Bianca was laying on her side on the opposite end of the tent, curled into a ball with her back against the fabric. My heart tore at the sight.
I crawled through the opening, re-zipping the flap shut behind me, and turned to her.
Her long hair was completely loose now—even though she’d had it pinned back through most of the day—and deep chestnut ringlets pillowed her on the hard ground. I’d always liked the color. It was consistent with every lifetime, much like Shui’s blue eyes.
She sniffled again, and my focus moved to her face. Large wounded eyes peered at me, and I suffocated at the sight of the tears pooled at her cheeks.
There was no accusation or even annoyance in her gaze, even though I expected it.
The fight had completely drained from her. She just looked… tired.
“I’m sorry.” Once again, the foreign words escaped without much reflection on my end. I wasn’t used to apologizing, and I found myself doing it more often than not with her.
She wore this expression one other time in my recent memories—the day she was lost to fear when I’d taken a single kiss too far.
The sight of her shaking and crying was impossible to scorch from my memories.
And now, because of me, the same look crumpled her features.
She sniffled, making no move to respond.
I’d never seen Mu defeated. He’d risen to every challenge ever thrown at him.
But, as I had to constantly keep reminding myself, she wasn’t him. It wasn’t fair to hold her to those expectations.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, sighing.
I dropped the blanket and lantern to the side and knelt in front of her, holding out my hand. I longed to touch her, to hold her, but our relationship was different than the way it was even when we’d first met. Since finding out about her abuse, I tried to restrain myself unless she instigated.
Granted, I wasn’t always successful at remembering. Thinking before acting was entirely new for me. But I tried.
Right now, I might not even have the right.
I wasn’t certain she liked me at all anymore.
My heart pounded like a jackhammer, and my mouth was dry with fear. Why wasn’t she responding? Her bright eyes remained fixed on my hand, but she didn’t move to accept.
“I’m an idiot.” I glared at the ground between us. I’d ruined everything.
