He lets me cry for a moment, and as my breathing slows and my self-hatred decreases from a raging fury to a dull thump thatmatches my slowing breaths, he puts a finger under my chin and tilts it up, forcing me to look at him.
“That’s where you’re wrong, baby girl,” he says, his voice low. “I know you’re imperfect. You’re fucked up, and your soul is dark as hell.”
I can’t help but smirk.
“But that makes you perfect for me. I love your black heart, and your weird quirks, and your occasional temper tantrum. I love every cell in your fucking body. My love for you transcends time, space—hell, it transcends life itself.” He pauses. “So I’m not going to let one little glitch—one spiral—one fucking insane moment—change my opinion of you.” He tilts my head up by my chin, so I’m forced to look at him. “You’re mine, and I love every single speck of you. Even the parts that can be frustrating and messy and ridiculous. Maybeespeciallythose parts. Almost as much as the fucked up dark parts that have me chasing you through the Anything Goes and taking you against a tree.”
“That’s the fucking problem.” I say again, frowning, my breath ragged from my tears. Although my pussy perks up at the mention of the Anything Goes.
He shakes his head. “I don’t understand. There is no problem.” His thumb presses lightly against my jaw, holding me there. “I don’t want stable. I don’t want easy.” His gaze doesn’t move from mine. “I wantyou.”
Something tightens in my chest.
“All of it,” he continues, quieter now, but heavier. “The way your head works. The way you break and put yourself back together wrong. The way you spiral and still keep going.”
His grip shifts slightly, firmer now. “I know exactly what you are.” That shouldn’t land the way it does. “I didn’t imagine something better,” he says. “I chose this.”
My breath catches.
“You.”
The word sits between us. Final. Unmoving.
His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck, holdingme there, close enough that I can feel his breath when he speaks again. “You don’t have to be anything else. I don’twantyou to be. I just want you.”
His voice is certain, and it doesn’t feel like he’s just saying it to reassure me. And somehow, that’s worse. Because part of me—the part that should still be pushing back—doesn’t.
Instead, it just settles.
Right there with him.
CHAPTER 63
IVY
“We need to talk,” I say later, after my heart stops beating out of my chest. After I’ve had a chance to think. “Because what’s been happening? It’s not okay.”
“You said it yourself,” his gaze doesn’t leave mine. “I’ve improved things for you.”
“I’m not going to argue that.” I sigh. “But the way you’ve gone about it doesn’t exactly foster trust.”
He shrugs. “If it gets to the same outcome, I don’t see why that’s an issue.”
“Because my soul can’t breathe, Soren. I can’t relax wondering if you’re pulling the wool over my eyes. It doesn’t matter why you’re doing it. Dishonesty is dishonesty. Manipulation is manipulation. None of it is okay.”
He looks down now, like it’s finally starting to click. “So what exactly do you need from me, then?”
I frown, trying to find the words that will get through to him. It’s not that he doesn’t listen to me—because he listens more carefully than anyone else ever has. But he seems to bend mywords to his will. To make them mean something that fits his narrative.
I take a deep breath, letting out an exhale that’s a little longer than my inhale. My voice is intentionally soft. “Please, stop messing with my mind, Soren. If you don’t like something I’m doing, don’t get me canceled. Don’t manipulate me. Just have an adult conversation. Let me make my own decisions. Please. I can’t go on like this.”
“So you forgive me?” he asks, hope in his voice.
“What a takeaway from what I just said!” I say, flabbergasted at his ability to once again hear what he wants to. “Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I say. “You owe me big time. And you’re going to pay up.”
This isn’t over. But I haven’t written him—all of this—off quite yet.
Our conversations come back to me all at once—what he did, what I said, the way I insisted he wasn’t forgiven. Even as everything quietly slid back into place like nothing really changed.