For some reason, it makes the backs of my eyes sting. I blink, but continue to hold his gaze, something in those inky depths screaming for me to trust him. Problem is, I don’t trust myself. Not now. Not ever. “I’ll wait forever, Milaje.” The words are butter soft. Salt to my wound. When did he learn to handle sentences with such care? Why now? I’ll wait forever … The messed-up thing is, I believe him. And I can’t stand this tension for another minute, let alone forever.
