I could ask him why. Why would he spend years trying to match a flower to the color of my irises, yet spend the rest of his time trying to push me to leave West Paine? But if I asked, would he even know the answer? Whatever he feels is cocooned, and when his strongest emotions tear through the tomb of silken tissue, I don’t know if he understands any of it.

My hand curls around his wrist. The stitches press against his pulse. The evidence of his care is right there in my skin, in the beat of his heart against the wound he helped to heal.

“This was never about gratitude, or recognition, or acknowledging that you deserved to be at West Paine, or even that I left you to die in your home, is it,” Jack says when he pulls back just far enough to watch my reaction. When I remain silent, his brows hike in a silent request for an answer as he frames my face between his hands.

I swallow and shake my head. And still he waits, looking into me, burrowing under every layer until each one is torn away. When I try to drop my gaze he tilts my face up with gentle pressure, a wordless plea to not back away.

“No,” I finally whisper.

“This is about me forcing you to feel alone. Unwanted.”

Alone.

Unwanted.

Those words explode in the air like little bombs.

My chest aches. More tears crest my lashes but Jack draws them away with his thumbs. “Stop,” I say, though I don’t let go or try to break his hold.

“No,” he replies. Just no. It’s the softest thing he’s ever said to me, and yet it cuts just as deep as his cruelest words. It’s the slice of a scalpel. The glimpse beneath an incision to pull out what hides beneath the flesh.

“Stop. Please, Jack.”

“No. I have wasted so much time. And now it feels like there’s not enough.”

I open my mouth to beg. Because if he scrapes this layer away, nothing remains to keep him out. There will be no thin veil of rage left to hide behind.

But Jack speaks before I can gather the words.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you again. We both know that life doesn’t work that way,” Jack says, his eyes soldered to mine even though I keep my focus trained on his lips. I can feel his silver gaze, boring into my mind like screws. “But look around you, lille mejer. You are not unwanted. You are not alone. You are unique.” Jack bends his head until his eyes are level with mine and I have no choice but to meet their sharpened determination. “You are a bright and blinding light in the dark. Luminous. And I’m sorry I made you feel like anything less than that.”

Jack keeps hold of my gaze, waiting for the words to sink beneath the wound he’s made before he presses his lips to mine, sealing it closed. The kiss lasts no longer than a ragged breath, and then he pulls me into an embrace.

And that’s all it takes to break open.

Just an embrace. Just thoughts turned to actions that might seem small, but they are keys to locked doors. He gives me the things he knows I need. Brass when I break glass. Stitches in a wound. The last remains of an enemy, a prized trophy. An apology, even though he might be incapable of feeling remorse. But he’s trying.

And what is love if not that.

Maybe Jack will never feel it. Maybe he does and will never know.

But I can feel it. I know its shapes and colors, its camouflage. I was made what I am in one night and the days of pain that followed. I wasn’t born and raised this way. I’ve loved and been loved, and lost it all.

When I look across his shoulder through my drying lashes, surrounded by shades of blue and the scent of flowers, sheltered in his unwavering embrace, I know I’m falling in love with Jack Sorensen.

Even if he leaves.

Even if he can never love me back the same way.

I can’t stop myself. And even if I could, I don’t think I want to fight it anymore. That’s what I’ve been trying my hardest to crush and conquer, this willingness to let my wrath go. And I’ve failed. I might regret it when he disappears to wherever he’s planning to go, but right now, it’s all I ever really wanted. To not feel alone. To feel accepted the way I am, as the person I want to be. The one who embraced the darkness that tried to claim her and made it her own. Not the one who would only be loved for what I could have been. A mask.

Little by little, I relax into Jack’s embrace, resting my head against his neck and shoulder. The sky darkens above us to a deep indigo as the sun sinks below a distant horizon. Jack’s heart drums its steady beat against my skin, coaxing my breathing into a slower, even rhythm. He doesn’t seem restless or keen to part. He just lets one hand drift through my hair in a slow, melodic cadence, stopping every time he catches a little knot from the autumn wind just to start at the beginning again.

It isn’t until a timer switches the grow lamps off and the only light to reach us crawls through the narrow door that Jack stills the motion of his hand.

“Min elskede, bliv venligst,” Jack whispers without breaking his embrace.

“I don’t know—what is that?”

“Danish.”

“I don’t know Danish.”

“I’m aware,” he says, his arms tightening a fraction. Maybe he thinks I won’t notice, but I do. “Stay.”

“I have a dog.”

“We established that.”

“He sheds.”

“I do know how to operate a vacuum, Dr. Roth.”

“He barks.”

“Often the purpose of a guard dog, or so I’m told. We can go back and get him now, and whatever else you need.”

“He’s at Joy’s.”

Jack lifts his shoulder. “Then we’ll get him tomorrow on our way to get more of your belongings from your house.”

“We?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Don’t you think Joy will have questions?”

Jack shrugs again, nonplussed.

“Jack…even if she never says a word to anyone, people are going to notice, especially if I stay for days on end. We don’t even know how long Hayes might remain. People will talk.”

“Good. Let them. The more attention there is on you, the less likely Hayes will be to make a rash move,” Jack says, releasing his embrace to take hold of my shoulders.

“But—”

“Stay. I do not give a fuck what they think, Kyrie. We need to limit his access to you on your own. I doubt he would try anything on the campus, but he might at your home. He’s already showed up there. He’s fucking been inside.” The fury in his words cracks like a whip, his fingers tightening on my shoulders. Even in the dim light, Jack’s eyes seem to flash, cutting a path through the night. “I will not let him get that close again.”

Neither of us moves for a long, silent moment. My insides feel raw, my sharp edges debrided.

I’ve wasted so much time, Jack said.

And now it feels like there’s not enough.

There’s never enough time for the things that I cherish, and always too much for the things I don’t want. As enticing as it is in some ways, I’m scared to be in Jack’s domain night after night with no lair of my own for refuge. But I also loathe the thought of time winning another victory over me.

“You haven’t shown me the whole house,” I say, watching the tension ease from Jack’s shoulders as my words settle in. “What if you have a collection of porcelain dolls? I hate those things.”

“Luckily, I put them in the attic before you arrived.”

“That’s a shame, because when I said the whole house I meant the whole house.” I raise a brow in challenge with the heavy emphasis of my last words. If I’m going to stay here, I want to see it all. I want to peel back a layer of Jack, just like he’s done to me.

Thoughts and worries and unspoken fears seem to weigh the air between us with thick, invisible threads. Jack’s eyes filter between mine, maybe trying to discern my emotions from my neutral expression. After a moment, he gives a single nod and lets his hands fall from my shoulders, offering one for me to take.