Page 76 of Molt

“Stop.”

“There is.”

I grab his face. “I said stop.” I’m crying. I didn’t even realize it. “Then don’t love me.”

His expression breaks. “Lenora.”

“Stop loving me, please.”

The laugh that leaves him is so shattered it hurts to hear. “Every time I love you, you kill me.”

I close my eyes. “Then stop loving me.”

His forehead presses against mine.

For a long moment, there’s nothing except our breathing.

Then he whispers “I’ve tried.”

A sob escapes me.

He pulls me against him.

I cling to him.

I don’t know how I can mourn someone who hasn’t died. Maybe because some part of me already has. Eight times. Maybe grief remembers too.

I press my face against his chest, his heartbeat is strong beneath my cheek.

For now.

The thought destroys me.

“August?”

“Hm?”

“I think I love you too.”

His body goes rigid.

I pull back.

“No.” He shakes his head.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I think I do.”

“You don’t remember me.” He growls.

“I don’t need to.”

“Lenora.”

“I don’t know if it’s mine. Or hers. Or every other version of me sitting inside my bones.” I press my palm over his heart. “But it’s there.”