Page 153 of The Shuddering City

Cody was waiting for her in her room. She took hold of his shoulder and pulled him down next to her on the bed. “I’m too tired to take off my clothes,” she murmured into his throat. “You’ll have to undress me and tuck me in.”

“I can do that,” he said. “Just lie still.”

But when they lay together under the cool sheets, her back to her chest, his arms folded around her and her hands clasped on top of his, she found she couldn’t sleep. Too many of the day’s images kept replaying in her mind, too many of the night’s emotions hammered against her heart. After about thirty minutes, she sighed and turned onto her back. Cody kissed her cheek and snuggled up against her.

“Want to talk instead?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

He lifted a hand to play with her hair. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“About what?”

“If the city’s safe, you don’t have to leave, taking Aussen and running to the islands.”

“I don’t,” she agreed.

“Does that mean you’ll stay in Corcannon? I know you’re always thinking about moving on.”

For a moment, she tried to imagine that. Collecting her final paycheck, packing up her things, heading back across one of the bridges to Chibain or southern Marata or Oraki. She’d never been to the western islands. Maybe she should book passage on a merchant ship and travel as far as it would take her.

“It seems impossible,” she said.

His hand stilled. “That you’d stay?”

“That I’d ever leave. That I’dwantto.”

His fingers started moving again, traveling down the contour of her cheek, the line of her jaw. “So what will you do? If you’re living in Corcannon for the rest of your life.”

She smiled in the dark. “Well, I don’t want to sound overconfident, but I feel pretty certain that Madeleine will be happy to keep me on for as long as I want a job.”

“She might want to live in Chibain on the Curval estates.”

Jayla considered that. “She might. At least part of the time. But her heart is in the city. She’ll always come back.” She shifted to her side so she was facing him. “What about you?”

“I never want to leave the city.”

“You said you would,” she reminded him. “Before. You said you would come with me if I needed to run away.”

“And I still would,” he said. “If you needed to run away again.” He took a deep breath. “If I would leave for you, would you stay for me?”

She was not used to giving promises. She was accustomed to concluding transactions, honoring commitments, and holding up her end of a bargain, but she liked to have the terms defined and the parameters clear. She preferred a timeline and an end point. She wanted clarity.

Love was messy and unpredictable, chaotic and mutable. How could she be sure she had the required skills, when it was a job she had never attempted before? How could she be certain she wouldn’t fail, wouldn’t simply walk away, the work unfinished, the contract broken?

“I want to,” she said. “But I’m so afraid I won’t get it right.”

He kissed her, gently and with infinite sweetness. “I’m afraid, too,” he said. “But I’m more afraid of not trying.”

“Then maybe that’s what we do.”

“What?”

She leaned in and kissed him. “We try.”

“Then you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay. With you.”

---