49. Chapter Forty-Nine
It’s the middle of the night by the time Trinte stirs in my lap.
He passed out a couple of hours ago, having cried himself to sleep.
To busy my mind, I’ve been staring at the most hideous painting on the wall: two pegasus bonded together at the bellies, with four legs and horrified expressions.
It’s so out of place in this sparse apartment.
My body aches from sitting on the floor, bowing over his head, but I don’t care.
“What time is it?” he croaks out, eyes still closed.
I run fingers through the worn tracks in his tresses. “I’m not sure. You don’t have a clock nearby.”
With a groan, he rolls onto his back, staring at me.
I smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he rasps, voice gone from the otherworldly sounds he released. “I have the worst fucking headache in existence.”
Bringing fingers to his temples, I make small circles. He closes his eyes, humming in appreciation. “You probably need sustenance. Real sleep.”
“Can we stay here forever?” he whispers.
My smile widens. “My ass went numb three hours ago. Can we at least transfer to the couch?”
Trinte opens his eyes again. In the dark, the orb glows faintly.
“You came.” He sounds surprised and enraptured.
“I knew you needed me,” I murmur.
His voice wobbles as he says, “I’m sorry I was mean to you.”
I wipe away the tear slipping from the corner of an eye. “I knew you didn’t mean it.”
“I love you, Kyrielle.”
The words are said with so much surety, I’m sure I’ve misheard. This evening is so emotionally loaded; is this really a good time? “Are you sure you mean to say that right now?”
“I was thinking of killing myself.”
The words rip through me like a blade, eviscerating everything in their path. I actually want to slap him silly.
Bursting into tears, I demand, “Did you really put those two sentences together, back to back?”
Instead of taking it back, he brings a hand to my cheek, watching me from my lap. “I didn’t because I thought of how sad you might be. And I love you. Which means I’m not allowed to make you sad if I can help it.”
I laugh out a sob, leaning over until my mouth is on his, placing the smallest of kisses on his lips. The hand on my face snakes to the back of my head as he presses us together more firmly. There’s no intensity in it; if anything, it’s reassurance.
When his hand releases my head, I stay hovering over his face. “I’m supremely glad you didn’t kill yourself. Who will I regurgitate my hazelnut coffee into?”
Trinte stares at me, facing twisting from confusion to incredulity. “You want me alive so you can spit in my mouth?”
“No,” I assure him fiercely. “I want you also alive so I can eat your meat log.”
“Goddess, I love you,” he breathes, sounding more enthralled than anything. “You’re so weird.”
“I am not weird,” I flash a grin before scowling. “But seriously, please don’t.”
“I won’t.” The words ring with truth. “While I’m not saying you’re the only reason I’m alive, because that’s a lot of pressure … I’ll stay alive for you.”
“Good enough for me.” I flex my spine with a groan. “Okay, please, can we get up?”
Trinte rolls to his side, also letting out a pained groan. “Fortuna, strike me down. I feel like Dragon dung.”
He clambers up to standing, grabbing my hands to pull me up. My knees scream and buckle.
“Whoa.” Trinte catches me before I fall. “What’s wrong?”
Chuckling, I hobble over to the couch with his help. “Not sure what time it is, but I do know my knees lost circulation a while ago.”
He stares down at me with a pained expression. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
I grab his hand. “No. It’s fine. I was glad to be there.”
His voice’s scratchy as he asks, “Do you want some water?”
“Yes, please.”
He returns a few seconds later with two bottles. He hands me one. “Figured a Heimlock is not a good idea right now.”
“Every hour is Heimlock hour,” I joke.
“You should be on their marketing team.”
“Maybe I missed my calling.”
Trinte snorts. He lifts one of my arms and squishes my bicep. “With those boulders? No, Firefly, you’re exactly where you belong.”
Pleasure rolls down my spike; my cheeks heat. “Thanks.”
“I love you, Kyrielle,” he repeats, voice more clear after a few gulps of water.
I shift, grabbing a pillow to hug. Even if I feel it, the words aren’t ready yet. “Is it okay if I don’t say it back at this moment?”
“Definitely,” he says, tone firm. “My love is given freely, without expectation.”
Those words expand the size of my heart until it hurts. We’re sitting in near pitch black, so while I can’t see his face, his energy says so much. It’s earnest; hopeful. Nothing like the avalanche of desperate hate that greeted me earlier.
His arm reaches across the couch, resting on the top. Deft fingers play with my hair. “Who told you?”
“Orliana. She was hysterical.”
He sighs. “I’ll bet.”
Placing a hand on his leg, I ask quietly, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Trinte twirls my hair as he works through whatever he’s thinking about. The silence is more intimate than terrifying. Being in his space, his energy, is a haven. I’m sure if asked, he’ll let me stay the night. I hope so.
“My father was there today.”
I know this is important, but I don’t fully understand why. “Was he invited?”
“I’m fairly positive he was not.”
“What did he want?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t bother asking before I tried to kill him.”
My breathing and heart stay steady at those words. “No success?”
“No success today.”
I put a pin in the word ‘today.’ We’ll be discussing that later. “Orliana said you punched Fynn.”
Trinte lets out a long, menacing growl. “He fucking deserved it.”
“What did he do?”
“He electrocuted me.”
I gasp. Knowing full well how that feels, I’m furious on Trinte’s behalf. “Why?”
“Because my father was almost dead and Fynn couldn’t get me to stop.”
“And you punched him for it?”
“I punched him for electrocuting me, yes. And told him I never wanted to see him again.” His breathing turns ragged again, and he inhales a shuddering breath.
With a too-young voice full of pain, he whispers, “I can’t believe he did that.”
Trinte starts crying again. I crawl into his lap, allowing him to hold me close. Resting my head against his chest, I listen to his sharp inhalations and cleansing exhalations.
Hearing a heart heal itself.