“Then go. Remember that you are stronger and better than what everyone may say. They do not deserve your tears – do not deserve to see you flinch even the smallest way.”
This time, her answer was stronger, colder. “Yes.”
“Make me proud, ma petite. And when you come home, only then can you cry.”
Keanne lifted her head even as she kept her arms around Jason’s neck. His face was drawn with pain, and the sight of it made her want to lash out. “This time,” she told him in a shaky but determined voice, “You can be weak with me.”
“Keanne…” Jason was seldom bereft with words, but now he was, and all he could do was pull her back into his arms. Again, she embraced him, her touch fiercely protective. It moved him, leaving Jason torn between amusement and self-disgust. Keanne was like a tigress defending her cub at this moment, and yet the irony was that her cub was over a foot taller, a lot heavier, and light years older in experience.
“Talk to me,” she whispered.
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is. We both know there is.”
How could an eighteen year old see through him so easily? Was it really because they were two of a kind, both of them trying to recover from the same kind of evil?
“She will marry him.” The words, once spoken, could never be taken back and a huge wave of pain struck Jason at the realization that Lilac, dear, sweet, beautiful Lilac would never be his.
Keanne wanted to weep once more at the flatness of Jason’s tone, as if he was holding himself back ruthlessly because he believed he did not deserve to be hurt for loving someone who had never been his from the start.
She wanted to say so many things but none of them were right. Jason had taught her to be strong and she could do no less for him, could never let him be weak.
And so she whispered, “Yes, she will. You have always known she would marry him.” She paused, hating herself for what she was about to do, but again he had taught her this - had shown her time and time again that wallowing in self-pity did no one any favors.
“You can cry now, the same way I cried on the phone and you listened. But when we leave this room, you can’t let them see you’re hurt. Nick, Lilac, your mother – if you do not want them to be hurt, then you must suffer for them. You must pretend you’re fine even if you’re not. You must pretend that you’re happy for them even if you…”
She sucked her breath. “You must wish them well on their marriage even if you want to tear them apart.”
His hard body jerked at her words.
And then she felt it, and God, oh God, she felt it, and never had such wetness hurt, like acid on her skin.
Jason’s tears had started to fall.
“Will you mind,” he asked roughly, his head falling on her shoulder, his tears absorbed by the silk of her dress, “if I become fucking weak now?”
She shook her head silently, unable to speak past the tears that fell with his.
“I loved her, little doe. I fucking love her.”
“I know, mon bébé,” she whispered. “I know.”
“When they marry – it will be over. I have to accept that it will be over.”
She withdrew from Jason, cupping his face with her hands, pulling him close so she could press a kiss on his forehead. His kiss had been magical that first day they had met, and right now, Keanne wished with all her might that she could return the gesture.
“Keanne.” His low, hoarse cry was filled with so much sorrow she wanted to carve out her heart and let it beat for him so that his own could rest.
She pressed her lips harder against his skin. “One day,” she promised him, “one day you will find the right girl that’s meant for you.”
He laughed bitterly. “You sound so sure.”
Keanne pulled away again, needing Jason to look into her eyes so he could see she meant her words. “It’s because I am sure.” And she was because she had always known since the day he did not come to rescue her – since that very day he had given her back the courage to look into the mirror and not cry at what she saw, Keanne had known.
She was in love with Jason, and no other girl could ever love him more than she loved him.
****
Jason was more tipsy than drunk when she helped him back to his room, Keanne waving away the offers of assistance from his guards. She wanted to do this for him because it was but a small thing to do for the man who had saved her in more ways than she could count.
When she got him to bed, she took off his shirt, his socks, and shoes. Her throat went a little dry at the sight of his naked chest. She had seen it countless times, but of course that did not matter. The sight would always leave her secretly speechless.