He spins on a heel, hands clenched, eyes hard and cold, the color of cold steel. “Then what the fuck do you think is gonna happen in goddamned Montana, Anjalee?”
I have to find my strength to stand up to him, because I know I am right. “If I tell you what I think, will you listen to me?”
He shakes his head—not a no, but a gesture of disbelief. “Goddammit.”
“I will not waste my breath speaking words which will only be for the wind, Kane. I know what I am asking of you. I know I cannot know the pain you feel. I know I have no right to ask this of you. But I do. And I do so with a reason, which I feel to be valid and important.”
“You were a man, I’d knock your fuckin’ teeth in,” he snarls, again turning away from me. “You were any other woman in any other situation, I’d leave your ass here.”
I wait.
He looks at me over his shoulder, brow furrowed, jaw hard. “Need a fuckin’ minute.”
I just look at him, offer him what I hope is a kind, encouraging smile, and say nothing as he walks out the door.
His version of a minute is more than half an hour. I see his body outlined on the other side of the curtains, so I know he has not left.
Finally, he comes back inside, closes the door and puts his back to it, crossing his arm over his chest. “Explain.” When I move to stand up, to come to him, to touch him, he stabs a finger at me. “From over there.”
He still radiates fury.
But, beneath the anger, I see his hurt and his fear.
“You are trapped, Kane.” I see his mouth open, and I hold up a palm. “You told me to explain, and so now you must listen while I do.” He closes his mouth with an audible click of his jaws. “I must speak to you the truth, and I do not know the words to say what must said in a way that is kind. What I will say is going to make you even more angry with me than you are. I only hope you see that I am saying it because I believe it is important. And I hope as well that you see I say this knowing very well I am risking…” I pause, voice shaky, eyes watering. “All that we have together. Which means very much to me. More than I think you can understand.”
He doesn’t soften, but the fury lessens, a little bit, at least. “I’m givin’ you a shot at making your case, Anj. Hope it’s not lost on you that I’m diggin’ deep, giving you that.”
I nod. My hands are trembling badly, and I clutch them together, hoping to hide the shaking—I know Kane’s sharp eyes do not miss this.
I close my eyes, suck in a breath. I cannot look at him when I speak. “You ran away.”
“Fucking goddammit—”
I speak over him. “This Luke of yours, he took you in. He gave you everything. He gave you his daughter. It was a tragic mistake, Kane. I do not offer you an escape from culpability. I cannot do that. No one can. You did something very bad, and it cost the man who took you in his daughter, and it cost you the life you were building.” I pause—for effect, and for the courage to speak what I must. “You killed his daughter and then you ran away, Kane.”
He stomps a step forward, lethal fury blazing out of him, at once cold as outer space and as hot as the sun. Agony slices his features into an unrecognizable mask.
I force my body to remain still. I force my eyes to his. I am doing this, so I must not flinch as I rip his heart open.
“You owe him closure, Kane. You took something away from him and you did not even give him a chance to look you in the eye after it. And Kane, this is devouring your soul. It is the reason you have no life. It is the reason you…” I choke off, start again. “You only are able to give me a very small amount of yourself, Kane. Your body. Your kindness. You rescued me, yes. And you are very patiently teaching me about myself, and showing me this world I have been hidden away from for so very long. For my whole life. But…Kane, please, hear me when I say this to you—you havemoreto offer. I see it in you, and I want it for myself.” I repeat it. “You havemoretooffer.”
He closes his eyes, trying to shut away the pain. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“GODDAMMIT, I FUCKING DO NOT!” he bellows. “I’m fuckin’ empty, Anj! I’m broken. I’m—I fuckin’ died in that ditch with Della.”
“I know you did!” I yell back. “But instead of showing the courage I have seen in you, youran away.” I shoot off the bed, moving to him, not letting him escape my touch; I take his hands, and I have to hold them very tightly, so tightly my knuckles hurt, to keep him from ripping his away. “When you were in those mountains, fighting for your life, fighting for the lives of your men, fighting for the bodies of your men who died—did you run away?”
“Not the fucking same,” he snarls.
“Yes, it is. It is exactly the same. No, you did not run away. You carried the body of your friend on your back for twenty miles with a bullet in your leg, Kane. And you fought against the orders of your superiors to stay. You went back to the place of one of your greatest failures, as you see it, and fought for the bodies of your men.” I move closer yet, fighting him for inches, for the space between us. “Nowhere else in your life have you retreated. Nowhere else have yougiven up.Nowhere else have you let your fear and your pain win.”
He shakes his head, eyes closing. “Shut theFUCKup.” This is hissed, venomous, beyond fury, beyond rage.
“I will not.” I burrow through the cage of his hands, his arms, wiggle under to force myself into his arms. “I have never fought for anything. I have never stood for anything. When I ran away from my wedding, it was the first time I ever did so, but even that was…it was survival. I did not have a choice. It was run, or submit, and to submit was to die.” I press my body to his, chin on his chest, looking up at him, forcing my body to be soft rather than tight. He needs my softness, now more than ever. “I choose this fight because I believe in my soul that I am right.”
His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw pulsing. “Shut up. Shut up. Please—fuck, shutup.”
