Page 82 of Face Off

“I’d rather know you hear me.”

Charm’s breath caught.

Fifteen months ago, I told her what I needed until the words became another form of begging. She listened to every one of them and heard whatever her fear allowed. Every boundary I set became proof I didn’t want her. Every request became pressure. Every attempt to protect what I felt for her became another reason she believed I didn’t love her enough.

“You listened to every word I said,” I told her. “You never heard me.”

Her throat moved. “I hear you now.”

“Tonight doesn’t erase what happened.”

“I know.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Pain moved across her face, but she didn’t look away. “I know that too.”

“You don’t get to turn one good night into hope I haven’t offered.”

“I won’t.”

Her composure should’ve made this easier. Instead, I wanted to break it open and find every part of herself she no longer intended to hide from me.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said. “That was the conversation I asked for.”

“I figured.”

“I don’t have to give you the whole speech.”

“I don’t want a speech.”

“Then let me say one thing.”

I waited.

“I know getting healthy doesn’t fix what I did to you.”

The words landed precisely where they needed to, without attempting to cover the wound.

Charm’s eyes shone. “I know understanding why I failed you doesn’t change the fact that I did. I’m not asking you to forgive me because I went to treatment or because I can finally explain what was happening inside my head.”

“Good.”

“I only want you to know I understand the difference now.”

“What difference?”

“Being sick explains why I was afraid.” Her voice trembled, but she held my gaze. “It doesn’t excuse what I did in that fear.”

The anger did not come. That frightened me more than if it had. I wanted to hear everything else. I wanted every answer she’d been unable to give inside the study, and I wanted to refuse all of it before hope found another way into me.

“That’s enough for tonight,” I said.

Charm nodded. “Okay.”

She placed her palm against my chest.

My body answered before my mind caught up. I caught her wrist, but I didn’t remove her hand. Her pulse beat rapidly beneath my fingers while mine struck just as hard beneath her palm.