Page 51 of Forever My Saint
The memory crashes into me, and I swallow down the putrid bile. “Please don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”
But Saint won’t let matters lie. “I’m weak. I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean…” It seems he can’t find the right words. Taking a breath, he continues. “I’m sorry you had to see that. I can’t imagine how that made you feel.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not fucking okay!” he bellows, slamming his fist onto the floor.
“Saint.” I reach out to touch him, but he recoils so violently, I am left stunned.
What the hell?
My mouth parts, unsure what to make of his retreat. This is how he was when we first met—he didn’t like to be touched—but I brought down those walls. However, it seems, I have managed to erect them once again, brick by brick.
I try not to let my anguish show, but I’m hurt. And confused.
“Will Zoey be all right?” I need to change the subject.
Saint seems relieved that I have. “She’ll live. It seems you do listen every now and again,” he says, referring to his training.
The mood lightens for a moment, and I attempt a smile. It’s gone a second later. “I didn’t mean to hurt her that badly.” I imagine he’d be angry with me for hurting his sister. But something about him has changed. He seems…detached.
“It’s done,” he replies coldly. I soon find out the reason behind his disconnection. “I heard what she said. About Alek. And I saw how you responded.”
I lick my sudden dry lips. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” My reply is feeble, but I need him to know that I don’t feel that for Alek.
But it seems he’s made his own conclusions. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you.”
“Don’t blame me for what?” I question, my voice swathed in horror. When he doesn’t reply, I decide to press. “Back at Alek’s, the reason you let him live was because of me. You were going to leave me with him because—”
Saint appears defeated as he exhales steadily.
“Did you mean it?” There is no need for me to elaborate. He knows what I’m asking.
The seconds suddenly feel like hours because the longer he takes to respond, the harder I’ll fall.
“Yes. And I know you have feelings for him.”
“Saint, no,” I cry, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch him. But I don’t because I can’t stand the rejection. “I don’t.”
“It’s all right.”
But it’s really not. None of this is. “No. It’s not all right. I don’t have feelings for him how you think I do.” And I mean it. But I can see why he would recognize it another way.
Saint wants Alek dead, but I am woman enough to admit that I don’t.
I still don’t understand what I feel toward Alek, and I doubt I ever will. But being here with Saint, regardless of this distance between us, I know my feelings for him are real, so real they rob the very air I breathe. There is no mistaking what this is, and that’s love. I love him. So much. Which is the reason I know I don’t love Alek.
I don’t feel this undeniable pull toward Alek. And the thought of being without him doesn’t leave me with a gaping hole in my chest. But when I think about losing Saint, my entire world crumbles, giving way to perpetual darkness.
But he doesn’t seem convinced.
“Don’t shut me out. We’ll work this out together.”
His shoulders depress as he hangs his head low. “Don’t try to fix me, Willow. I was broken a long time ago.”
His admission has me weeping silent tears. “Don’t say that. What you did, what you sacrificed at Oscar’s—” My words fade into the abyss because it’s apparent those wounds are still raw when he clenches his jaw.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His animated eyes are a sure sign that if I push too hard, he will retreat further away, and if I’m not careful, he will be lost to me for good.