Page 155 of Sword & Shadow
“Why is she like this?” Deckard asked, despondent. “Why can’t she accept love as a gift? Why does she feel it to be a burden?”
“I told you,” Hewitt gave him a bitter smile, “she’s afraid.”
“Of me?” Deckard couldn’t fathom the concept.
“Of loving you back.”
Simultaneous hope and despair rose in Deckard. If she feared loving him, didn’t that mean she felt shecouldlove him? But what could cause someone to hold such a devastating fear?
The answer stood in front of Deckard as a ghost.
“She’s afraid of losing me.” The revelation breathed out of Deckard, washing over him like the rain of Wauld. “The same way she lost you and Ryen.”
Hewitt gave him a pitying look. “As I said, we never moved on.”
Understanding the dynamic at play made everything clearer. Evylin’s actions—her intense withdrawal after Hewitt’s death—all made sense in this light. Fear was an ever-constant reminder of what she stood to lose. No wonder she’d pushed him away. If she felt for him a fraction of what he’d come to feel for her...
“The loss of me would be debilitating,” Deckard realized.
Hewitt understood. He stepped forward, gray eyes adamant. “You have to do what I never could, Deckard,” he charged. “You have to help her let go of the past. Otherwise, she’ll never be able to live.”
“How amIsupposed to do that? If you couldn’t—”
“I didn’t try,” Hewitt admitted. “I didn’t want to let go. It’s too late for us to get back the last thirteen years of our lives, but it isn’t too late to protect her future. You have to help her move on.”
“I don’t know how,” Deckard said. “Not when she’s asked me to walk away.”
“It’s simple,” Hewitt said. “Don’t walk away.”
“Even when it’s what she wants?”
“It isn’t what she wants. It’s what she fears. She’s trying to prove to herself that she doesn’t need you, that she can bear being without you. Stay by her side. Once she realizes you aren’t going anywhere, she’ll let herself love you.”
Deckard grimaced. “That could be a bit of a problem,” he said, then took the time to walk Hewitt through the last several days. He told him everything from Dunneshead to the present, not bothering to leave anything out—not even their kiss.
Hewitt stroked his scraggly beard as he listened, deep in thought. “How long will you be apart?” he asked when Deckard’s summary was complete.
“Auden said our journeys will take roughly a fortnight.”
With a slow nod, Hewitt stared into the distance. “Mm. Good.”
“Good?” Deckard repeated incredulously.
“The distance will serve us,” Hewitt said as though solving a puzzle. “She’s getting a chance to experience life without you. She’ll see just how much she misses you, how lonely she is. It’ll lead her back to you.”
Deckard hated how hopeful the idea made him. “Are you sure?”
“Do you doubt my knowledge of my niece?”
“No,” he admitted.
Hewitt nodded. “This is just what we need. Two weeks. Yes, she’ll grow adequately miserable without you, but not so much that she forgets what it’s like to have you near.”
Deckard didn’t like how well Hewitt was taking the situation. “I still promised her an annulment,” he reminded him.
Hewitt waved a hand in dismissal. “It won’t come to that. Once she sees you again, she’ll practically leap into your arms.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Deckard asked, not as optimistic as the ghost. “What if she sees me, realizes her feelings, and still fears them? What if she requires me to stand by my promise?”
