Shouldn’t Pry.
But the record scratch of silence between us went on too long to be ignored. He looked over at me, at the expression on my face, and then blanched in turn. “Oh, God. And you think you say the wrong things sometimes, Edie—”
“We wouldn’t be a thing if you were still a shapeshifter, would we?” I blurted out before he could apologize. It was too horrible for me to contemplate, and so I hadn’t, this whole time. Which was funny, because part of me had always known the truth.
At least now it wouldn’t be hanging over me anymore like a sword.
Asher inhaled to protest, to give me the easy answer—but we were past that, weren’t we? I looked deep into his eyes, and he let out a long head-shaking sigh. “No.”
I nodded, trying to be both brave and understanding, like a woman watching someone she loves go off to war.
“Shapeshifters aren’t supposed to make friends with humans, much less fall in love with them. We’re like parasites.” He was trying to soften the blow by explaining. “There wasn’t any room for you in my past life. Hell, there wasn’t even any room left inside me.”
And I knew that too. I’d known him back then, back when being what he was almost made him go insane. It’s just that despite the fact that I was a completely nonmagical human, I’d always hoped, in some tiny-twelve-year-old part of my brain, that I’d been the woman to tame the monster. That he’d chosen me because I was special. Not that I’d won his love by default.
I swallowed. The next logical question was Would he give up everything we had here, now, to be a shapeshifter again? But for once I kept my mouth shut and didn’t run toward the spinning knives.
He took my nearer hand in his own and squeezed it until his knuckles were white. “I love you more than anything, Edie. Please, don’t let me have ruined that.”
I swallowed again, and breathed, slowly. “You haven’t. It’s okay. I love you, too.”
“We’re okay?” he asked, his voice tight.
“We’re fine.” I squeezed his hand back, and then took my own away from him. “Let’s just go to sleep. It’s been a long night.”
It was the truth, and a way out of the tar pit we’d both fallen in. “Okay.”
We crawled into bed together, lying side by side. He wrapped his arm around me like he always did, and I snuggled back against him like I always did. Pretending to be fine is half the battle of actually being fine. I was tired, and it had been a long day. I closed my eyes, and waited for sleep.
I’d always wanted to think that love could heal anything. But I realized lying there, eyes closed, listening to Asher breathe, that really love is what happens when you find out that it can’t.
* * *
I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke in the morning; all I knew was that I wanted to throw up, and apparently I was alone.
“Asher?” I knocked on the second bathroom door before taking my place inside the first one as nausea hit me. Dammit to hell. If someone had ever explained to me to what extent being pregnant would make me intimate with a toilet, and if I’d been wise enough to believe them at the time, I wouldn’t have been on the pill, I’d have been on a freaking IUD. Three IUDs. Twelve. The number rose with each involuntary spasm. My uterus would have been like Christmas Day for copper thieves.
I puked down to bright green bile before I was done, and I wanted to scrub my tongue down with an entire tin of Altoids. I staggered to standing and poked my stomach. “Thanks for nothing, kid, I mean it.”
I rinsed with water and spit without swallowing so I couldn’t trigger anything else. My morning sickness had better resolve before I got home, otherwise I was going to be having middle-of-the-night sickness, and the thought was too awful to comprehend.
I heard the cabin door open and went outside, catching Asher in the hall. “I didn’t want to wake you. Are you okay?” he asked,
But the record scratch of silence between us went on too long to be ignored. He looked over at me, at the expression on my face, and then blanched in turn. “Oh, God. And you think you say the wrong things sometimes, Edie—”
“We wouldn’t be a thing if you were still a shapeshifter, would we?” I blurted out before he could apologize. It was too horrible for me to contemplate, and so I hadn’t, this whole time. Which was funny, because part of me had always known the truth.
At least now it wouldn’t be hanging over me anymore like a sword.
Asher inhaled to protest, to give me the easy answer—but we were past that, weren’t we? I looked deep into his eyes, and he let out a long head-shaking sigh. “No.”
I nodded, trying to be both brave and understanding, like a woman watching someone she loves go off to war.
“Shapeshifters aren’t supposed to make friends with humans, much less fall in love with them. We’re like parasites.” He was trying to soften the blow by explaining. “There wasn’t any room for you in my past life. Hell, there wasn’t even any room left inside me.”
And I knew that too. I’d known him back then, back when being what he was almost made him go insane. It’s just that despite the fact that I was a completely nonmagical human, I’d always hoped, in some tiny-twelve-year-old part of my brain, that I’d been the woman to tame the monster. That he’d chosen me because I was special. Not that I’d won his love by default.
I swallowed. The next logical question was Would he give up everything we had here, now, to be a shapeshifter again? But for once I kept my mouth shut and didn’t run toward the spinning knives.
He took my nearer hand in his own and squeezed it until his knuckles were white. “I love you more than anything, Edie. Please, don’t let me have ruined that.”
I swallowed again, and breathed, slowly. “You haven’t. It’s okay. I love you, too.”
“We’re okay?” he asked, his voice tight.
“We’re fine.” I squeezed his hand back, and then took my own away from him. “Let’s just go to sleep. It’s been a long night.”
It was the truth, and a way out of the tar pit we’d both fallen in. “Okay.”
We crawled into bed together, lying side by side. He wrapped his arm around me like he always did, and I snuggled back against him like I always did. Pretending to be fine is half the battle of actually being fine. I was tired, and it had been a long day. I closed my eyes, and waited for sleep.
I’d always wanted to think that love could heal anything. But I realized lying there, eyes closed, listening to Asher breathe, that really love is what happens when you find out that it can’t.
* * *
I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke in the morning; all I knew was that I wanted to throw up, and apparently I was alone.
“Asher?” I knocked on the second bathroom door before taking my place inside the first one as nausea hit me. Dammit to hell. If someone had ever explained to me to what extent being pregnant would make me intimate with a toilet, and if I’d been wise enough to believe them at the time, I wouldn’t have been on the pill, I’d have been on a freaking IUD. Three IUDs. Twelve. The number rose with each involuntary spasm. My uterus would have been like Christmas Day for copper thieves.
I puked down to bright green bile before I was done, and I wanted to scrub my tongue down with an entire tin of Altoids. I staggered to standing and poked my stomach. “Thanks for nothing, kid, I mean it.”
I rinsed with water and spit without swallowing so I couldn’t trigger anything else. My morning sickness had better resolve before I got home, otherwise I was going to be having middle-of-the-night sickness, and the thought was too awful to comprehend.
I heard the cabin door open and went outside, catching Asher in the hall. “I didn’t want to wake you. Are you okay?” he asked,
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