Page 63 of Fated to the Grumpy Dragon
One I’d built.
Which means it’s up to me to tear it down.
“I hurt you,” I said into the uncomfortable silence growing between us.
He shrugged. “I’ve been hit harder.”
“I wasn’t referring to the slap,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I used an insult that someone else used on you. And it hurt you.”
Rhyse just waited. He wasn’t going to make it easy. And why should he? There had been no cause for the hurt I’d hurled at him. He’d done nothing to justify it. It was on me to apologize, to try to bridge the gap.
“I was scared, and I let it get the better of me.” I slowly exhaled. “I am sorry, Rhyse. Truly.”
“I know,” he said. “But does that change the truth of your underlying feelings?”
“No,” I said.
He sat straighter, obviously not expecting that answer.
“Let me explain,” I said with a half-smile. “I had a bit of time to think about it. About what I’d seen.”
Rhyse made a face inviting further explanation.
“I don’t know why, but the brewing fight between you and Killian triggered something in my mind, releasing a flood of memories. Ones I didn’t wish to remember, some for good reason.”
“Your memories are back?” he asked, sitting up in surprise.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “In fact, calling them memories isn’t entirely accurate. I think theyare, but I’m not experiencing them as such. It’s like … like I’m replaying scenes from a movie. I see what happened. I see that I was there. But it doesn’tfeellike I was there. It feels like I’m watching a moviebecause I don’t have the emotional attachment to them. I’m distant.”
“I can’t pretend I understand what that’s like,” he said. “But what do you, uh, recall?”
“One of the first attacks in the war,” I said. “I was there. In the middle of it. I’d gone to town for some reason. I still don’t know why yet, so don’t ask, and I came out of the store to see the military rolling down the main street, setting up checkpoints and yelling at people over speakers to get out of town as fast as they could, via any means, even running if necessary.”
Rhyse was silent. “What then?”
“The dragons arrived.” I shook my head. “I ran, but they were on the soldiers in a flash. It was hell. I don’t think I can find any other way to describe it. The stench of everything burning is not something I want to remember.”
“I understand.”
“In the middle of all that, I was on the beach with you and then there and then back. It was all blurring together. I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. I thought I was going crazy. Then you shifted, and I broke.” I looked down. “I’m sorry, Rhyse. I might feel that way about other dragons, but not you. You’ve shown you’re different, and I should have known that despite everything going on. All the confusion and fears I’d screwed up.”
“Screwed up?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
“I also remember some bits about after the attack. Vague images. But in them, there’s another.” I looked at him, wanting him to see my face as I said it.
“Another?”
“Another man. And me.” I shook my head.
“You think you had someone back home.”
“At first, I did, yes,” I told him. “But not anymore.”
Rhyse frowned. “Why not?”
“Because every time I think about him—I can’t even recall his name—I get nothing but a negative feeling.”
“I see.” He cleared his throat. “And when you think of me? What do you feel then?”
