Page 25 of Nyx
“Hi,” he whispers back, and his fingers flex against his arm until they indent his skin.
“Ronan is cooking a big dinner with everything we harvested. Do you… want to eat with us tonight?”
“Us?” he asks, those pale sage eyes lifting to mine.
“Everyone, or just… just me and you?”
His cheeks flush again, and his head dips to the ground. “You do not have to…” He trails off, his bare toes flexing against the soil. They’re filthy, coated in rich brown dirt, and the sight makes me grin.
“Don’t have to what?”
“Leave the others. Miss time with them for… for me.”
I step closer, but he doesn’t look at me again. My urge to grip that delicate, pointed chin and lift his face to mine is so powerful, I have to clench my hand at my side. I’d never risk spooking him and breaking this fragile trust, so I keep my distance, despite my demanding brain.
“Spending time with you is not a sacrifice, Nyx. Never an imposition. I’m right where I want to be.”
He’s quiet for a long time, fingers digging into his skin and pinching the thin layer of flesh between them. When he finally speaks, it’s shaky. “I need to… try. Be with others.”
A ridiculous flare of jealousy punches me in the gut, and I brace myself against it. “That’s fair,” I manage. “They’re your friends, too.”
He tilts his head from side to side. “Some, yes. Elas and Cameron are friends.”
“Not Ronan?” I ask, and his defiant glare makes me want to laugh.
“Ronan is a friend, but wants to be a parent.” I snort, and when he looks back up at me, that tiny hint of a smile plays on his lips again.
“Yeah, he does that.”
“And you,” he says, as though he didn’t hear me.
“Me?”
“My friend?” He poses it like a question, and his uncertainty takes away some of the levity.
“Of course I’m your friend, Nyx.”
He bites his lip and nods. “What if you… tired of me?”
I don’t correct him on the word, because there are much bigger things at play here. My head shakes as I hold his eyes, silently begging him to trust the honesty in mine. “No, Nyx. I could never tire of you. Never in a thousand years.”
His lips separate as he sucks in a breath, then he worries the bottom one between his teeth. “I…” he starts, dropping his gaze to the ground and hiding behind the hat. “One day…” He falters again, a frustrated grunt forming in his throat as I wait for him to gather his thoughts.
One of his fists clenches at his side, and his jaw tenses. He jerks his eyes up to meet mine, like he’s made some grand decision and is forcing himself to stick to it. “I want you to have… more,” he says.
“More?”
“Of… me.” His eyes are wide and fearful, but he holds steady. “I want to… share. Talk. Tell you… my past.”
“Oh, gods, Nyx,” I mumble, and his determination falters into something far more vulnerable as I give him a smile that barely contains my tears. “Whatever you want to share with me, I’d be honored to have it.”
He attempts to smile again, but his face is unaccustomed to the motion and fights it. “Scared,” he admits, rubbing at his chest as he watches me with those guarded eyes.
I can see it then—what everyone has told him time and time and again since he’s been here. I recognize the weight it places on him.
You don’t have to be afraid.
There’s nothing to worry about here.
