Page 145 of Darling Venom
Was I supposed to feel this way? Like I’d walked into a sedative, silver fog?
I fumbled to keep the conversation thread.
Tate proceeded. “I’ve been on the defense for so long, with so many people, it’s hard to accept your good deeds. Especially when they are dipped in a reminder that I failed Kellan.”
“I understand.” Surprisingly, I did. “Is this an apology?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“Kind of.”
“Then it is.”
“Tate…” I paused, unsure how to say the next part. “It’s okay that you fucked up. Everyone does, sometimes.” I thought about me and Leah. About how I failed her. “And it’s okay to forgive yourself, too.”
“Say that to yourself, Charlie. Often. And loud.”
His fingers touched mine again. It felt like a row of books falling with a loud thump in my chest.
We exhaled together.
Inhaled together.
I stopped walking when we reached the end of the aisle. One more step, and we’d be facing each other, and I wasn’t ready for this moment to end.
Tate mimicked me. I turned around fully to the aisle. Our eyes met behind the row of books on the top shelf.
He watched me in silence for what seemed like forever. This felt monumental in ways I wasn’t equipped to deal with.
“Truce?” he asked.
“Truce.”
“I’m tired of war.”
“I know.” I choked on my words. “Nobody wins it, anyway.”
His eyes told me he knew pain, and pain knew him, and they were in a committed, unbreakable relationship.
I opened my mouth to say something because I thought I should, but nothing came out. His hand gripped mine under the shelf. He yanked me forward.
Our faces were inches from one another.
My breathing became labored.
This was the second indication I’d ever received that Tate saw me. Really saw me. As a woman, not just a mason jar full of painful memories.
“Tate.”
“Charlie.”
“I don’t hate you,” I admitted.
“I know.” He curled his lower lip. “Poor Charlie.”
Every bone in my body shook.
“Now’s a good time to run,” he said in his sad, silky voice, his eyes still hard on mine. “Because if you don’t, I am liable to kiss you.”
