Page 42 of The Edge of Never

“Almost two years.”

I kept rubbing my fingers over his chest, wanting to soothe away that troubled look in his eyes. He’d known I was referring to his wife. And he answered me. That felt significant. My heart ached something fierce over it.

“Normally people would say I’m sorry in this situation, but I kind of hate that. So I’ll just say grief is… hard.”

“What would ye know aboot grief?”

I tried not to flinch at his accusatory tone.

“A lot. A hell of a fucking lot, actually.”

Too. Much. Crushing. Pain.

That was what grief was to me. People don’t talk enough about loss. How it consumes every inch of you, makes you want to curl up in a little ball and fade into nothingness, so you don’t have to feel for five fucking minutes. But you have to go on with life, so you push it all down, hold it under the surface so no one knows the depth of sorrow you feel.

“But I don’t owe you my horror story just as you don’t owe me yours, so we should drop this.”

I dipped my chin to my chest, so I didn’t have to look at him any longer. The lid on the box containing my grief and trauma rattled. My eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of agony contained within.

I almost let out a little sob when a calloused hand brushed across my cheek.

“Kit.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare fucking cry in front of him.

I shook my head. It would be too much. All of it. If I let any of it out, then he would see parts of me I didn’t want him to. I barely wanted anyone to see them because of what others thought about people like me.

Push it down. You have to. You can’t let this out.

“I didnae mean…” He let out a sigh and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. “I dinnae like talking aboot Jenna, and ye just hit a sore spot. But I didnae mean tae upset ye.”

My brain caught on one word in his sentence. Jenna. He told me his wife’s name. Whether it was on purpose or not, I didn’t know, but somehow, that broke through the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. Maybe I should have been happy he said it, but I wasn’t. It only made me care more. Caring about Thane was dangerous. He was clearly complicated. Did I need that in my life? Probably not. It was fucked up enough already. And yet, I really wanted to dive headfirst into a complication with him.

It was that thought that cemented my next words.

“I’m warm enough now. You don’t have to keep holding me.”

He didn’t let go. He didn’t even take his hand off my cheek.

“Thane.”

“Mibbe am no warm enough, Kit. Ye think of that?”

“Are you?”

“Aye. Am freezing withoot ye, so stay here a wee bit longer with me.”

My eyes flew open to meet his green ones. There was a little twinkle in them.

I raised my brows. That made him smile at me, and he finally dropped his hand from my face.

“Well, okay, I suppose I can’t have you getting cold on me again. And honestly, I wouldn’t mind a nap. I’m still tired from yesterday.”

Without letting him speak, I snuggled even closer and buried my face in his chest. Thane didn’t object to my burrowing myself against him. In fact, after a few minutes, he settled his hand on my waist again and hummed. It wasn’t a tune that I recognised, but it lulled me into oblivion.

Our truce was on very tenuous ground, but I was glad we had kept it. It wouldn’t do to be at each other’s throats when we were trying to survive in a situation where we didn’t know if we would be rescued. Or if we were going to have to get out of here ourselves.

Fourteen

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