“Ana—” He kissed me, gentle and sweet, but filled with an intoxicating urgency. His arm tightened around me, drawing me nearer. He kissed a trail down my neck, as far as he could go before my shirt collar stopped him, and then he stayed there. Breathing hard.
I almost asked again what he wanted to tell me, but maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe it was something bad and that was why he’d kissed me like that. Maybe he thought it would be so horrible I’d never speak to him again, but surely he knew he meant everything to me.
“Sam?” I combed my fingers through his hair, soft and thick and dark. I liked the way he kept it, a barely contained disaster. “What is it?” I whispered.
He drew himself up, kissed me again, and spoke the words against my lips. “I love you, Ana.”
My breath caught in my chest.
The words. They made my heart beat faster. I wanted to be able to tell him how I felt, and what he must have been waiting to hear, but even thinking the words made me sweat. Nosouls couldn’t love. That was what my mother had told me for eighteen years, and she’d slapped me if I even said the word.
But I wasn’t a nosoul. Newsoul, yes. Still, was I truly capable and deserving of love?
“It’s okay,” he whispered, and his worry turned into understanding. Of course he understood; he always did. “It’s okay if you can’t tell me. Or if you don’t feel the same way about me. I just wanted to make sure that you knew I do love you.”
The words sent chills across my skin. “Thank you.” I tried to smile to reassure him, but nothing would come.
“I love you.” He said it as though repeating himself would convince me.
The tightness spread up to my throat, making tears blur my vision.
“Ana.” He turned my face up, brushing his thumbs across my damp cheeks. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know.” A sob erupted with an ugly heave. I couldn’t breathe anymore.
Sam wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. My tears soaked his shirt, and when my nose ran, he pressed a clean handkerchief into my hand. I clutched the square of white cloth. Clutched Sam. Part of me wanted him to go away so I could cry in peace, but I didn’t want him to leave.
He rocked me until my sobs waned to sniffles, not asking why again. And he didn’t take back the words. That word. I didn’t want him to take it back. I wanted him to feel that way about me.
I wanted it. I couldn’t bear if he took it away.
“Lie down,” he whispered.
I did, wiping a dry corner of the handkerchief over my face as he pulled a blanket over me.
“Do you want a cup of tea?”
“No.” Weeping had shredded my voice. “I want you.”
“Okay.” He bent to untie his shoes, then kicked them off and stretched out on the narrow bed beside me. Achingly close. Too close, because our knees and elbows got in each other’s way, even through the blanket. Not close enough.
I shut my eyes so I didn’t have to see his concerned expression, his confusion, or the hurt. If I could have explained somehow, I would have, but there was nothing where an explanation should be.
He brushed hair off my face, strands stuck to damp skin, and finally I drifted in and out of restless sleep. But he was there every time I opened my eyes, stirring awake when I moved.
Darkness blanketed the world as I crept up to wash my face and throw the handkerchief in the laundry pile. Night had fallen. Outside, sylph crooned half-familiar songs, making me pause.
“Ana.” Sam rolled over to face me, and I darted back into bed before he decided to go to the sofa.
The blanket was still warm from his body, even though he lay on top of the covers. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?” He leaned on his elbow, face just above mine in the darkness. Kisses breezed over my forehead, my cheeks.
For not running away when I started crying. For not taking the words back. For saying the words in the first place.
“I don’t know. For everything.”
Dawn slanted through the east-facing windows in gold banners. Sam was in the kitchen area, preparing coffee, and all our bags were waiting by the front door.
He scraped the sides of the empty honey jar before stirring my coffee, then smiled over. “Hey.”
“Are the sylph still out there?” I rubbed sleep from my eyes and scooted off the bed. The rest of the covers were cold; he must have been up a long time, getting ready for us to leave. “Do you think they’ll let us by without trouble?”
“They haven’t bothered us yet.” He took our mugs and came to sit beside me, handing me my coffee.
It was true. We’d gone outside to clean, to get fresh air, to take care of Shaggy, and the sylph hadn’t done anything more sinister than study us.
Ceramic warmed my hands as I breathed in bitter and sweet steam. “Sam, about last night…”
He inclined his head toward me, black hair falling across his eyes.
In all the months I’d known him, he’d never said my feelings were stupid. He never made me feel wrong or dumb. He’d always taken me seriously. I could trust him.