Chapter 44 #3
“Donny assigned me as your security detail,” he says.
“Probably thought throwing us together would force me to deal with my feelings instead of running from them. Marianne had seen inside my head years ago, before I learned how to build walls. I never suspected she’d tell you, but I knew you’d piece it together after what she said.
I was preparing myself for that conversation, but I wasn’t expecting you to ask Billy. ”
I want to crawl out of my skin.
“I saw an opportunity,” Nico says. “Billy planted just enough doubt in your head. I could see it on your face, and I thought—if I push hard enough right now, she’ll believe that I’m dangerous. She’ll finally stay away.”
I remember with horrible clarity how his face went blank like someone flipped a switch, turning off everything human in his eyes. I’d never seen anyone erase themselves so completely.
“As soon as I left that library, I knew I’d gone too far,” Nico says.
“The look on your face… Griffin came to my room and punched me so hard I saw stars. I deserved it. DJ came in after and hugged me. I broke down, crying like a kid, telling her I didn’t know what to do.
I kept saying it over and over again. Tell me what to do.
I pushed the emotion so far down. I’m the team leader.
It’s my responsibility to keep the team functioning and protect every one of you.
I couldn’t let my personal feelings get in the way of my job, even though they were.
When Donny was taken, I wanted you with me.
I told myself it was tactical, but the truth is, I was terrified something would happen to you if you weren’t where I could see you.
I was scared of what we’d find. I didn’t trust anyone else to guard you the way I could.
“Then I woke up here and heard your voice,” Nico says, and his voice becomes breathy and light.
“Morrow knew about my feelings for you. I don’t know how, but he did.
I thought if I could convince you my brain really was broken, you’d do everything to survive, and I could throw the trials.
I did tweak my knee when Morrow jumped me—he beat the shit out of me after he knocked you unconscious.
But I played the injury up so you’d see a way to win.
Tried to be that person who scared you, but when you fell on that glass…
” He’s crying so hard he can barely form words.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t hate me.
You should’ve. You still should. I don’t deserve you seeing good in me. ”
“That’s bullshit,” I say. “You had your life stolen and still choose to help people. You fight every single day to be better than what was done to you. You are good.”
This only makes him cry harder.
I reach to find his hand, and this time, he lets me take it. Our fingers lace together. I grip so hard I can feel his pulse hammering. My palm is flushed against his like I’m trying to fuse our bones.
“I know we haven’t known each other for long,” he says, words tumbling out so fast they run together.
“And that I haven’t let you know me. I went about this all wrong.
I understand if this makes you never want to look at me again, but I had to tell you the truth.
If this is all I get, if I die in here, I don’t want to spend another second pretending to be anything other than yours. ”
It’s as if the words have stolen every molecule of oxygen from the room, leaving me weightless and stunned.
Ever since the murders, I’ve felt like an inconvenience, like someone people tolerated because they had to, and here’s Nico telling me he’s mine?
My brain keeps trying to find a reason this can’t be real.
People don’t just… How can he feel this strongly about me when I can barely stand myself half the time?
Something inside me breaks clean open. It feels like he picked up that axe and cleaved my heart right down the middle, letting all the feelings I’ve been shoving down since that night in the kitchen come pouring out.
I wanted him so badly then, and I want him now.
Knowing he wants me too, in ways I never imagined, floods me with emotion so thick I could choke.
“Nico,” I say.
Tears are streaming down my face, but I can’t wipe them. I won’t let go of him.
“I’m yours, too,” I say. “I have been since the day we met.”
He makes a sound like I just punched all the air out of his lungs.
He told me in the kitchen that if I knew him, I wouldn’t want him. I thought he was just being dramatic, pushing me away, but now I understand. He believes the truth makes him unlovable. I don’t know how, but he believes anyone who gets to know him will see a monster.
“You want to know why I didn’t believe you?” I say. “Because you’re not a monster. Anyone who knows you can see that.”
I want to destroy Billy. Force so much electricity into that containment unit that he gets burned into nonexistence.
I care about Nico so much it physically hurts, and stopping him from crying becomes the most important thing in the world.
Gently, I take my hand out of his. The pain from my glass wound feels far away as I push myself onto my knees.
I’m so careful as I straddle his legs, settling my weight onto his thighs.
I may not be able to see anything else in the room, but I’m close enough that I can see the outline of him, the shadows of his eyelashes, and the dark shape of his eyebrows. His whole body is tense.
I drag my hand up his shoulder until I reach his face, and brace my hand on his cheek. “You are not a monster.”
Nico drops his head like the words are too heavy for him to carry. I catch his chin, gently guiding his face back up, even though I know he can barely see me.
“You did not kill those girls,” I say. “And you don’t get to sit here and tell yourself you’re dangerous when all you’ve done since the day we met is protect me.”
It’s too dark to see his expression, but I can hear his breath snag. I gently lift his hand and kiss his palm, right below his thumb.
“I’ve known hands that hurt,” I say, pressing his palm to my face. “I know when someone’s touch is only there to cause damage, but your hands have only ever saved me.”
He doesn’t move at all. I can’t even tell if he’s breathing.
“It makes me so sad you can’t see how incredible you are,” I say. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”
“Eden…” He sounds embarrassed.
“There are so many things I like about you,” I say.
“I like how you take care of every person on the team. I like that you think about everything you say before you say it, because it shows you really mean it. I like how seriously you take this job, how much you care about saving people, and how it’s more than just a job to you.
I may not know everything about you, but I want to.
The more I learn about you, the more I like you. ”
“You can’t mean that,” he says.
“I do,” I say.
“I’m not a good person,” he says, and the words drive through me like a needle in my heart. “I’d kill anyone who tried to hurt my team again.”
“That makes you a good protector,” I say. “You take care of the people you love. Everyone would do that for their family.”
“I can turn my feelings off anytime I want to,” he says.
“But you choose not to,” I say. “That actually speaks more to how not like Billy you are, because you continuously choose to feel things.”
“I get so angry at the world,” he says, his voice so quiet I can barely hear him. “Sometimes, I get so mad I want to destroy it all.”
“Me too,” I say, because boy, do I understand that feeling. “But being angry doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re allowed to be angry.”
“I’m scared that I can’t feel arousal without someone else being in pain,” he whispers.
I choke on a harsh laugh. “Okay, now you’re sounding ridiculous. If that were true, you would’ve gotten turned on watching me in the glass trial.”
I can tell his mind is turning. I wonder if this is helping at all. It’s easy to hear someone else say positive things about you, but internalizing them is a whole other animal.
“Any violent images your brain comes up with aren’t coming from you,” I say. “Billy forced them onto you. You remember them because that’s all you know.”
He still doesn’t say anything. I consider my next words. Nico is pragmatic. I should put this in measurable terms.
“I wasn’t in pain when we kissed in the kitchen, and you said you wanted me then,” I say.
“So much,” Nico affirms.
But his voice is still distant. I can’t tell if he agrees with me, so I need to find another way to show him.
I shift closer until I’m sitting on his upper thighs, and I reach my arm around his neck and pull myself closer to him until our chests are flush.
“Eden, what are you doing?” he asks, sounding urgent and frantic.
I give him a tiny smile, which I’m hoping comes through in my voice. “I’m cold.”