Page 161 of A Forgotten Promise

I swallow, my mouth a desert. “Hi.”

“May I?” He shifts his weight.

I nod, suddenly tongue-tied. That’s a new one for me. Well, for the me I remember.

“Sorry it took me so long, I was… Never mind.” He shakes his head. “How are you feeling?”

Something in his tone strikes me like lightning. It’s the genuine care. He came because I texted him that we should talk. Frankly, I expected him to call back, not to show up.

But it’s the caring attitude that throws me off. I used to think my parents cared in their own weird way. That Vito cared—God, was I stupid.

But having Corm’s full attention is a very different level of adoration. I don’t know what to do with that.

It completely throws me off, and my eyes water.

“What’s wrong?” He rushes to my side.

I wipe a tear. Apparently, I lost pieces of my memory and became a crier. “You do care about me, don’t you?”

He hangs his head, sighing. When he looks up, he locks me in his gaze, and I’m powerless. My chest constricts, fairy wings fluttering in my stomach.

What is happening? I’m scared to look away. It’s like something is passing between us that I don’t understand, but which is familiar.

It’s fleeting at the same time, just grazing the edges of my mind, teasing me. I try to grasp it, to catch it, to keep it, but I can’t. Goddammit.

He opens his mouth and closes it. Then he tries to start again.

Please don’t say you love me, because I don’t know who we are to each other, but I don’t want to hurt you.

“Of course I care.” His tone is aloof, like he gripped the reins of control and governs his reactions and words now.

It’s strangely disappointing, and freeing at the same time.

“They want to discharge me tomorrow.” I shift and wince. I should have taken the stupid drugs.

His entire body moves, and then stills. Like he wanted to reach out, but he caught himself. “I’m calling the…” He shakes his head. “Should I call the doctor?”

“No, it’s okay.” We stare at each other, awkwardness stretching between us. “Thank you,” I add, and his shoulders relax a bit.

“So, you’re out of here tomorrow…” He licks his lips, looking at me with hooded eyes.

He doesn’t look like the Corm I remember—larger than life, owning the air around him, ego spread through several zip codes.

He looks like a man grieving.

“Is it okay if I stay at your house?”

His eyes widen. “Of course.” He steps closer, his arm rising.

“For the time being,” I add, to protect myself and to stop him from touching me.

He drops his hand to the side-railing of my bed, squeezing it in a white-knuckled grip.

“Anything you need, The Morrigan,” he rasps, his eyes searching mine.

“The Morrigan?”

“Never mind.” He shakes his head. “You should get some sleep.”

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