Page 98 of Gravehouse

“What do you want from me?” I ask, ignoring the kitchen on purpose. I keep my focus on the fireplace, but then I’m reminded of the night he ordered takeout…

This is why I never came back here.

“And what is this place? Veilarath, I mean?” I lower to the sofa. “Is the house we’re staying in the one you were waiting to be built?”

When he doesn’t answer, I lift my eyes to his. I shouldn’t have, because now I have to multitask to not completely fall apart.Weak, weak, weak.

Every second drags like an hour as he lowers down the steps and takes the spot opposite.

Another second.

He rests his head back against the sofa, eyes pinned on the ceiling. “I loved you.”

The words hit me right in the chest. “I...”

He shakes his head, cutting me off. “Don’t say shit until you’ve heard what I have to say.”

He shifts forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs.

Tension snaps through the room like a live wire, then his shoulders cave with a sigh and his head drops into his hands. The sound he makes is barely human.

My knees hit the floor and I cup his face, thumbs dragging along the rough line of his jaw.

“Hey.” I’ve never seen him like this. “Hey, look at me.”

He pulls back, hands rising to push me away, but I hold on until his fingers go slack.

“None of it matters.” I keep my voice low. “I know who you are. You know what I do for a living, remember? Whatever you think I can’t handle — you know I’ve handled worse.”

His mouth twitches, one corner lifting before it drops. His eyes settle on me, freezing my next breath halfway in.

He swallows, brows pinched tight. “There’s a saying where I come from.Les amants maudits.” His lips part, closing again as he leans back in the chair. The wood groans under him as he drags a finger over his upper lip, taking his sweet fucking time.

“Asher.” I squeeze his thigh. “Your fucking manspread has officially failed as a distraction. Speak.”

“Hmph.” He smirks behind his hand, pitching his weight forward again. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. Not a text. Not a call. Not even to Luce or Jord.”

“Okay.”

His broad shoulders lock. “I mean it, Ivy. Not a fucking word.”

I squeeze his thigh. “I said okay.”

He searches my face for something. Trust, maybe. Or the absence of a lie. Whatever he finds loosens his jaw enough to speak.

“My family isn’t who you think.” He drags both hands down his face. “I am who I am, yeah, but there’s more.”

Another pause.

I blink, resting on my heels. “I figured as much.”

“What?” His tone lightens, a brow arched. “No disappointment?”

I force back a laugh. “Would be a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” The heaviness in my heart weighs down my smile. “Explain.”

Clearing his throat, he cracks his neck. “We’ll start with Veilarath.”

It’s not like the thought never crossed my mind, especially after finding out we were back here, but an hour ago, he didn’t want to say anything at all. What changed?