“I’m sorry I said you were like your family,” I tell him, still kneeling. It makes my words an offering. “That argument got out of hand, but I refuse to accept whatever penance you think this is.”
“It’s not penance,” he says, brittle. “You were right. Iwasthinking like my family. I let them sculpt me. I let them pick so many elements of my life, and no matter what job I get with this degree, I’ll be like them, won’t I? I’ll be working in industries like theirs,hurting people like they do. It was the only way I could think to stop what I saw happening.”
“Quitting won’t stop that because youaren’t like them.” I push to my feet. “I put you back on that paper because it’sours,whether you like it or not. Dr. Narbeth’s waiting for you to contact him and rescind your withdrawal from the program, because everyone was fucking heart—gods, sorry.” I wince at Dr. Holmes. “Everyone was heartbroken you’d do that.You don’t deserve that. You deserve this degree, Thio. You’ve worked hard for it, and it’syours,and that’s something your family can’t take away or corrupt. Don’t give up a powerful tool in your arsenal. You don’t have to use it for anything that’ll make you like them.”
I close the space between us, finally touching him, taking his hands and pressing them to my chest.
“I know you’ve been trapped under them by yourself for a very long time.” My voice is low but sure, more sure than I’ve been about anything. “It’s daunting to face a threat like the Touraels on your own, and that’s why so many of us turn to magic. Some conflicts are too big when it’s just us. But it isn’t just you anymore. Because I—”
“I’m sorry,” Thio cuts me off, freeing his hands to loop around my neck, thumbs on my jaw. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I should never have looked up those names without your consent, and I sure as hell shouldn’t havesaid them to you; and what I said about Camp Merethyl, too, I didn’t—”
I kiss him. Let his apology fill the air between our lips and he moans into the contact, a fatalistic whimper heavy with regret, with need.
It stays gentle against the heat welling in my chest, how even one night of not being with him triggers greed. We’re both gasping as our foreheads grind together; I wonder if Hordon will let us subject him to one more X-rated usage of the car’s back seat.
“Let me in, okay?” I whisper into our space. “I know that’s rich coming from me, but I will now, too. I promise. You’re not bearing any of this alone anymore, and I’m not either.”
He nods against me, grip on my neck pinching tighter, keeping me in this dimension.
“And you’re graduating,” I tell him. “Okay? You’ve done all the work.Youdid it, not your family, and whatever you do with this degree,you’lluse it. Not them. Just because you have the skills to work in their fields doesn’t mean you have to. I’ll help you figure out what job youdowant. But get this degree. Get this stepping stone. It’s yours.”
Thio winces, breaks with a panting gasp. “I love you so much.”
I yank back from him.
He teeters, not letting go of me.
“You dick,” I snap with no bite whatsoever. “I wanted to say it first. Ialmost didsay it first, but you cut me off.”
Thio grins. An unhurried, delighted smile, it bathes over me, settles the last of the worry.
“I win,” he declares, eyes teary, and before I can get out more than an indignant huff, he’s kissing me again, bending me nearly backward, our bodies slamming together and his tongue invading my mouth.
A throat clears.
Slowly, we shift to face Martha, her hands clasped against her scrubs, her head tipped in amused reproach.
“This is hardly the place, is it, gentlemen?” she softly scolds.
I try to disentangle myself from Thio, but he holds on, keeping one arm around my waist.
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.
I elbow him, and he buries his face in my neck, inhaling, absorbing. His sigh of pleasure ripples out across my entire body, makes my neck arch, feline and supple.
Gods, this man.
Martha smiles. “I’m glad to see you’ve worked out your issues. But lunch is being served in the main dining room, and I know your mother will want to get a zucchini fritter before they’re gone.” She fiddles with a few settings on Dr. Holmes’s wheelchair and pivots her toward the door. “Will you be joining us?”
“Yeah,” I say, and Thio extricates himself from my neck to give me a look of such adoration my knees nearly collapse.
This is how it’s going to be, then? Not a damn thing buffering this connection between us now. Nothing left to shield us or the outside world from the full onslaught of everything blazing in Thio’s eyes.
Martha heads off with Thio’s mom, and we linger for a beat under the weeping willow, a breeze playing a melody through the branches and elongated leaves.
“We don’t have to stay,” he tells me.
I pick at a spot on his shirt, right over his pec. “Hey, I like zucchini fritters as much as the next guy.”
