“That doesn’t make you the disaster,” I said.
“It might.”
I wanted to argue until she believed me, but the truth spell hummed under my skin, keeping me honest. I couldn’t say it would all be fine when I didn’t know that.
“What are you saying?” I asked quietly.
She stared straight ahead, breaths coming shallow. “I’m saying that I think I need some space.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“From … me?” I managed.
“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “Yes, I guess. I need to get my head on straight. I need to figure out what being a chartweaver actually means. I need to fix things with my sister. I need to help the Order. And I can’t do any of that if I’m…” She gestured between us, fingers shaking. “If I’m falling apart every time you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked, hoarse.
“Like I’m good,” she whispered. “Like I’m worth choosing.”
“Because you are,” I said simply.
She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear slipping free. “See?That.That’s exactly the problem. I want to believe you so badly that I’m afraid I’ll hand you my whole heart and then watch you get dragged through the mud again because of me. And I can’t—I won’t—do that to you.”
I swallowed hard. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”
“Maybe not,” she said. “But I get to decide what I bring into your life. And right now that’s…a lot of chaos.”
Silence pressed in on us. The truck felt too small, the night outside too big.
“What does space look like?” I asked because I needed specifics.
She drew a shaky breath. “I’d like to…sleep in my bed for a bit,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “No kissing, no…you know.” She waved a hand in the general direction of my lap and turned bright red. “We can still live here. Still be…friendly. I’m not saying we never talk again. I just…I need to take the pressure off. On us. On what this is. Maybe we just moved too fast.”
I stared at her, every instinct in me roaring to not let this happen.
I wanted to say it. To refuse. To tell her that once I’d set my sights, that was it, and she’d just have to deal with being cherished for the rest of her life.
But the truth spell throbbed in my chest like a warning.
If I said I was fine with this, I’d be lying. If I said I didn’t mind, I’d be lying.
So I didn’t.
“I hate this,” I said honestly. My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. “Every part of me hates this. I don’t want distance. I don’t want separate beds. I want you next to me, stealing the covers and poking me in the ribs when I snore.”
Her shoulders shook.
“But,” I forced out, “if space is what you need to feel safe, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll try, at least.”
Her eyes flew to mine, searching. “You will?”
“Aye.” I swallowed. “I’m not going anywhere, Liora. You want to slow down? Fine. We’ll slow down. You want to sort things with your sister first? I’ll cheer from the sidelines. You want to spend your nights talking to your squirrel instead of me? I’ll try not to be jealous.”
A tiny, broken laugh escaped her.
“But know this,” I continued, because the truth spell was buzzing and I couldn’t not say it. “I’m not switching off how I feel. I can’t. I’ve locked on, and that’s not something I do lightly. I’ll respect your boundaries. I’ll give you the space you’re asking for. But I’m still here. Still choosing you. Even if I have to do it from the other side of the bloody house.”
We sat there for a long moment, breathing the same air, not quite touching.