Page 315 of Once Upon a Fable

Kas groaned, the vibrations of his despair echoing through the house.

My eyes prickled as I choked on a breath.

I’d left to get some perspective. I’d removed myself from his presence so I could grapple with the hardest decision of my life. Last night, I’d given my heart to a man for the very first time. I’d had stars in my eyes that things would be better now. That just because I was willing to share myself with him, all our troubles were over.

I sighed.

That isn’t the case at all.

We were back at the beginning.

And what I needed to decide now was...just how strong am I?

Just a few weeks ago, I would never have imagined I’d have the capacity to, not only sit here and contemplate all the ways I was willing to fight for him, but have faith that all my endless hope would be worth it.

He would yell, shout, curse, and deny, but in the end...he would know.

I’ll make him know.

He would come to understand that in this situation, I was stronger than him. I wouldn’t let him frighten me away. I wouldn’t permit him to scare me into silence.

I wasn’t weak-minded or stupid for not going home. I wasn’t turning my back on my family by choosing him over them.

In the end, I was choosing myself.

Because I chose you, Kas.

And you need help.

Standing, I smoothed down my peach dress and inhaled deeply.

I’d taken the necessary time to hold my decision, to pet it, examine it, and accept that there truly was no going back.

No matter the pain. The frustration. The tears.

No matter the setbacks, the inevitable arguments, the many, many struggles.

I was his, for better or for worse.

If I could be strong enough. If I could somehow, someway, grant him the peace he so desperately needed, then I stood the chance of claiming my soul-mate in return.

And wasn’t that the greatest prize of all?

Wasn’t that worthfighting for?

Kas made another noise, heart-wrenching and agonizing and my body made the final choice for me. I balled my hands and crossed through the games room back into the library.

He sat hunched over in the wingback, rocking over his broken arm as if it was the source of all his despair. His long hair obscured his face, his bare feet and casual clothing so at odds with the regal richness of this ivy-draped mansion. A book lay open on the floor by the wall, a dent in the hardcover binding.

My heart squeezed as I went to him.

He didn’t say a word as I hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder and kneaded the tension in his muscle.

The connection.

The chemistry, kinship, and armistice that’d given us a fresh beginning last night could be found again. I merely had to be strong enough to survive him.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his good hand still locked over the cast I’d put on his arm. “I’m sorry.”