Page 103 of Ink & Desire

Her hazel gaze is locked on me and I’m not sure I could look away if I tried. She holds up a folded piece of paper. I know what it is immediately.

"Why did you keep this?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“Tell me, Corbin,” she says. “Please.”

Her voice is pleading, and I feel that ache in my chest grow stronger when I realize her eyes are shining with unshed tears. She doesn’t cry. Not my angel. She getsangry. She yells. She pushes back. But the woman in front of me is different from the one I’ve come to know over the last few months. I know it’s my fault. Me, with my overbearing ways and stubborn refusal to admit I need her. I did this to her. I turned her into a smaller version of the woman I fell for. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for hurting her and for making her doubt herself.

"You know why," I finally say.

She shakes her head. "I don't. Tell me."

The ache in my chest grows nearly unbearable. There’s a lump in my throat that’s making it difficult for me to form words. But I know I can't let her go again without telling her. I can’t leave here without telling her exactly what she means to me. She may still decide to end things, but at least I’ll know I did everything I could to stop her.

"I don't know why I picked it up that day,” I say finally. “I watched you draw it. You sat at the desk and drew it like it was nothing. You were barely even looking at the pen in your hand. I remember staring at your hands. I was fascinated by them. The way they moved, the sureness in the lines. I couldn't look away. You made it look so easy." I shake my head. "I was in awe of you. Your talent. Your eye for detail. It must have fallen on the floor, because that's where I found it. It was just sitting there like it was nothing. I didn't want to see it go into the trash. You drew that. And it was good. Really fucking good."

She doesn’tlook at me, keeping her eyes glued to the paper in her hand. "Okay. But why did you keep it for all these months?"

Does she really think so little of herself and her talents? I’m suddenly so pissed at everyone who ever let her believe she wasn’t good enough. I’m furious at everyone in her life for not seeing who she really is. I’m angry at her for dismissing her talent like it’s nothing. But mostly, I’m angry at myself for letting her go without telling her how incredible she is.

"Because it wasyours!” I say, my voice rising in frustration and anger. “Because it came from you. From your mind, your heart. You act like it's nothing, but I know you. You put your heart into every piece of art you create. You can't help yourself. It’s who you are. And if there was a piece of your heart out there somewhere, I wanted it to be mine! I couldn't bear the idea of it vanishing forever. I know I'm not worthy of the rest of it, but I could have that small piece.”

I sigh, feeling my anger leave me as quickly as it had appeared. “So, I kept it."

I don’t look at her. I’m afraid to meet her gaze and see the truth in her eyes. I don’t want to see that I’m right. I don’t want to see the confirmation in her eyes that I’ve lost her for good. That she can’t ever be truly mine. Her voice cuts through the silence as she says the last thing I expect.

"You're such an idiot."

My gaze shoots to hers. "What?"

"You!" she shouts, throwing her hand out toward me. "You're an idiot. Do you still not see it?"

Confused, I stare at her. “See what?"

She shakes her head, her expression weary. "It's yours. It has been since the first time I saw you laugh. Even when I thought you were a fucking dickhead, my stupid heart didn't care. It's always been yours."

My heart stops and I forget how to breathe for a second. What did she just say?

"Thought?" I ask. "Past tense?"

She glares at me. "That's what you're focused on?"

I step closer to her as I shake my head. "No," I say in a low voice. "I'm just really bad at this."

"It's not rocket science," she says, her voice breaking. "You feel something, and you say it. You don't hide from it and then show up with one of my drawings and make me cry over you. Again."

Her eyes shine once more with unshed tears, and I feel them like a punch in the gut.

"Oh, baby. Don't cry," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

"I can't keep wondering if you'll ever love me the way I love you," she says, her eyes closing tightly.

My heart stutters in my chest as she says the words I've been terrified of and longing to hear for so long.

"Stop wondering," I say. "I love you, angel."

The words come out so easily that I don't know why I fought the idea for so long. The sense of relief I feel is incredible, like a weight has been lifted off my chest.