Page 213 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

“Sweetheart.” He leaned over and kissed my shoulder. At his affection, I felt a strange lightness in my chest, like there was nothing I needed to worry about except listening to him, and being good for him, and trying my best, because that was the best possible thing that could happen in that moment was to make him proud of me.

I hadn’t noticed that he’d brought a bottle of water downstairs, but he opened it and helped me sip some once my hiccupping sobs had died down. He wiped away my tears and helped me regain some regulation to my breathing. I sipped some water, even though it tasted like plastic, but pushed the bottle away after a few sips.

“You really don’t like water, do you.”

“It tastes gross. And it makes my tummy feel weird.”

“I’ll see what I can do about finding you something else hydrating and healthy you can drink.” He kissed the top of my head. “Would that help? Maybe some watered down apple juice, or a sports drink or something?”

I nodded, my throat closing up again at how hard he was trying to help me. “I’m sorry I’m such a bitch,” I mumbled.

“You’re not a bitch. You’re in pain. My fox only bites when it’s scared, Alice. I know that.”

His understanding was only making me feel worse, like I was using him, manipulating him with my tears to gain his affection. Especially since I knew he liked it when I cried.

Maybe we really were meant for each other.

“I’m sorry I pushed you so hard earlier while we were folding laundry. I didn’t realize how quickly you were getting frustrated.”

I shook my head. “I tend to jump moods really fast, or escalate quickly. It’s not your fault, it happened so fast I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Would it have helped if I’d backed off?”

“Probably,” I said. “But I can’t just be like ‘I’m annoyed with you, shut up and let’s talk about this later.’”

“No, you’re right,” he said. “That would have been a little disrespectful, and I wouldn’t have appreciated that. I know I tend to be very direct, and I know when you’re emotional or stressed, my direct way of speaking probably makes it worse, and it’s harder for you to calm down. So from now on, why don’t you give me a warning word, or use your safeword when you’re escalating?”

“Okay.”

“Does writing help you at all?”

“I’ve been trying. It helps me figure it out when I don’t know what I feel. Because sometimes I have too many feelings at the same time, and I don’t know what they all are. But talking is better, but it also means I end up saying mean things to you and I don’t want to do that.”

“I think you should write whenever you feel like you’re going to spiral. Take a break, try to identify what you’re feeling and where those emotions came from. It’s important to recognize that you’re there and try to identify what triggered it. If we can find some of your triggers, we can reduce your mood swings.”

I nodded. “That actually sounds like a really good idea.”

“I tend to have a few of those on occasion.”

He tilted my chin up so he could look down at me. I reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead, the strange wiry texture feeling funny in my fingers. “You need a haircut.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, then nodded. “Yes, I do. I thought I’d get one on Thursday after my eye appointment.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Your eye appointment for your old man glasses.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure my vision is fine.”

“We should bet on it.”

“We can bet on it later. Right now, I need to punish you for snapping at me, and for invalidating your feelings.”

Wait. Hold on. I’m in trouble?I didn’t want to be in trouble right now. This wasn’tfuntrouble. This was like... gross, feel-bad trouble. I’ve-legitimately-upset-him in trouble.

Fuck.

Reuben noticed the change in my body language. “What’s the matter?”

My neck felt hot as I asked, “Are you mad at me?”Do you hate me?

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