Page 96 of To Have and to Stalk
Demystifying Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
And about five other titles of the same. He knew I was sick? How long had he known?—
“You stayed.”
I spun around, caught.
Calder stood in the doorway, dressed from head to toe in black.
His gaze dropped to the book. “Shay, I’m…” His brow pinched.
Even though he was just across the room, it felt like miles of space between us. I gripped the dresser at my back with both hands, warring with the nerves flapping big fat beetle wings in my stomach.
“How long have you known?”
He dragged a hand across his mouth, and that was when I noticed that his knuckles were red and abraded.
Bloody.
I had a brief flash of one of the first photos he’d sent.The kind you stay away from.I’d thought he was being hyperbolic. Trying to scare me away.
Was he really some kind of criminal?
My gaze narrowed on the fresh blood. He wasn’t bad. He couldn’t be. He was only scary when I wanted him to be. Hereadupon my illness. He was just like me, with societally frowned-upon kinks.
“For a while,” he admitted, drawing my attention back.
“Stalker,” I muttered. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I wasn’tsupposedto know.”
Silence passed. This was new territory for me. Usually it wasmetelling them, and waiting to see if they accepted me. But he was waiting for…me.
My fingernails bit into the wood of the dresser, and I sucked in a breath as Calder closed the distance.
“I shouldn’t have done that, Shay. I’m sorry.”
Maybe I should have been mad. Violated.
The scariest part about telling him was the fear of rejection. He already knew, had known, and still wanted me.
I glanced at the book again, not sure how to feel.
“I’m not mad,” I said.
“You’re not?”
“I’m…” I searched for the right word. “Relieved. I don’t want to lie to people. I just don’t know how to tell the truth. It’s bad to trauma dump, but my entire life is trauma. So I just pretend…” When I spoke next, the words were quiet, ripped from a dark, lonely part of me. “People won’t want me when they realize how dark it is.”
Calder snaked a hand through my hair. “I want your darkness.” He angled my head to face him so I could see the truth of his words in his eyes. “On our first date you told me dark is what holds up the light. I want to know those parts of you, Shay, the parts that hold everything up.”
I swallowed, throat thick. I used to dream of someone acceptingallof me.
It was perfect.
And somehow too much.
As if sensing my mood, Calder shifted the conversation into lighter territory. “You showered?”
