Page 229 of Sage Haven
Until her.
She softened the edges of myself I thought were permanent. She breathed life into the hollow places I thought were long dead. Every inch of her chipped away at the walls I’d spent a lifetime building.
Every breath she took made me want to be better.
Every look she gave made me believe I already was.
And she didn’t even know she was doing it.
She frustrated me, challenged me and interrupted me. Pushed and pulled until I couldn’t tell if I wanted to scream or laugh or crush her against me just to feel her heartbeat pounding in time with mine.
She hated me—until she didn’t. Until she trusted me and understood me.
And then—she loved me.
And it wrecked me.
Because she made me feel.
And I hadn’t felt anything in years. Not like this.
She had the power to make me feel an unfiltered joy.
A brutal, terrifying, devastating kind of joy.
The kind that was dangerous to want. The kind that was dangerous to need.
But it felt like mine.
Like I was finally alive.
And the only thing keeping me tethered to that life was her and those perfect eyes.
Sparkling like jade diamonds.
Bright. Pure. Fierce. Undeniably the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
But beauty was cruel when it belonged to something you couldn’t keep.
I didn’t deserve her, and I knew it.
But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.
I tore myself away from her—every muscle screaming to stay. I left the warmth of her behind like a man willingly walking into a blizzard. Stepping into the cold, where I belonged.
The door closed behind me with a quiet finality, and I found Cas standing there. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable at first.
But then his eyes met mine.
And I saw it. The knowing.
He smirked, but there was no real humor in it. Just a sharp edge of something that tasted like grief.
“I thought some things never change,” he said, voice casual. Too casual.
He knew. Of course, he knew. He always did.
“I guess I was wrong, Cas,” I murmured, the words foreign on my tongue.
