Page 45 of Coronation
It’s only my brain that seems to remember he doesn’t.
Eighteen
Benedict
“Zelda,” I hiss, my lungs burning as we turn yet another corner in the maze, moving in the completely wrong direction now.
Ahead of me, Zelda’s shoulders bunch forward. It’s the only indication she’s heard me, because her pace doesn’t slow. Growling in frustration, I speed up and, reaching out, I wrap my hand around her wrist, pulling her to a stop.
Even as we stand there in the middle of the path, Zelda still refuses to turn and look at me. It’s not until she lifts her free hand to her face, wiping her cheeks hurriedly with the back of her hand, that I realize why.
She’s crying.
I made her cry.
“What we just did—did I hurt you?” I demand, and the possibility of it alone is enough to shatter me. “Zelda,” I plead again, frantic when she doesn’t answer or turn to meet my eyes. “Fuck, please tell me. Did I hurt you?”
Finally, her hand falls back to her side, and she turns tolook at me through eyes rimmed in red. “No. I’m fine,” she bites back, her expression tight, as though she’s willing herself to be strong and to not show me even a hint of weakness, even as sorrow has dimmed the warmth in her brilliant eyes.
I release her wrist. Never have I felt like more of a piece of shit than I do in this moment. I can’t count the number of people who must think I’m a prickly, cold bastard. When they look me in the eye, I see their trepidation, their worry, their fear.
It was never like that with her, though. Zelda—Zelda liked me. From the first moment we met, I felt none of that from her. It was only ever warmth and hope and something more I don’t dare name.
Not anymore. Subconscious or not, I’d made it my personal mission to ensure it stopped, and now, I’ve finally gotten my way.
“Was there something else?” she asks as she draws back, obviously keen on putting as much distance between us as possible.
I’ve done enough damage. Letting her walk away is the right thing to do, and yet I can’t help clawing for that same light I just callously extinguished. “Tell me why you’re crying.”
Zelda sniffs, her eyes shining. “I’m not crying.”
If this were any other situation, the lie would be funny. Now, it only serves to deepen my devastation. “Zelda. Tell me at once,” I snap, my tone becoming harsh as my panic escalates.
Her mouth pops open, disbelief evident in every line of her face. “What do you want from me?” she half-laughs, half-sobs. “I’m crying because I’m an idiot who just let herself get fucked into the dirt by a man who treated her like some kind of disposable sex toy. You didn’t hurt me, Ben,I hurt me. What kind of person just keeps letting herself get used like this?”
The last question seems to be directed more toward herself than to me, and yet I find myself answering anyway, my heart hammering violently against the inside of my ribcage. “Used?” I ask, and it’s a struggle just to get the single syllable out. “What do you mean, used?”
Zelda scoffs, wiping away more tears as they fall. “Oh, come on. Do you think women don’t know when men only want them for their bodies? You were hardly the first. I should really be used to it by now.”
Dropping dead on the spot would be a relief if I didn’t know I deserved every bit of the pain and regret I’m currently experiencing. “Zelda,” I choke, staring at the beautiful, crying woman, almost beyond words in my horror. “God, I don’t only want you for—for that.”
She doesn’t believe me. I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t think one word I’ve just spoken is the truth. Why would she, when everything I’ve done thus far has proven the opposite? Then there’s the underlying, hypocritical fury that she says she’sused to it.
“Whatever you say, Ben,” she says at last with a smile so weary that it looks as though it costs her every bit of energy she has.
“I’m telling the truth.” Every word of this insistence is underlined by panic. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, I can’t let her go until she understands. “That isn’t what this is. I know your insipid little fuck of an ex-boyfriend?—”
Her mouth falls open, expression contorted in horror. “You knew?”
Was I not supposed to?
I hesitate, thrown off balance yet again. “It isn’t information I sought out. I looked you up after learning we would meet again.”
Wind rustles the hedges on either side of us, and Zelda shivers, tearing her eyes away from me to stare at the ground asI scramble for some way to assure her, some way to make her see.
“Zelda, I swear.I swear.” My voice is hollow, and while I ache to, I don’t reach out to touch her. “If my life were different, if I were anyone else, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I want you, darling. God, do I want you. Your beautiful heart, your smiles…” I swallow, endeavoring to rid myself of the painful blockage lodged in my throat. It doesn’t work, though, and I suspect nothing will. “Please believe me.”
It’s the most honest I’ve ever been with anyone. I’ve laid my heart bare at this woman’s feet, and I think maybe, just maybe, she knows it. Some of the icy guard slips from Zelda’s expression as she stares at me, obviously wrestling with her logical sense of self-preservation, and whatever part of her has connected to me so easily.
