The Snow Prince - Raleigh Ruebins Page 0,39

the first time in a long time.

Alone together, with no threat of anyone coming to separate us. It was what I’d been craving for years and years of my life, and now that I had it, I was frozen in place.

I had to tell him.

I had come here for one purpose, and one purpose only, and I wasn’t going to let myself get sidetracked by being quasi-arrested and then whisked up into this lap of luxury.

“I came here to tell you that I’m leaving Berrydale,” I said, swallowing hard. It was difficult to get the words out.

His eyes widened slightly, the excitement draining from his expression completely. “Oh,” he said softly. “Right.” He nodded finally. “That makes sense.”

He looked so crestfallen. I wondered when he’d last gotten a hug. He needed one, badly.

“I’m sorry to, uh, spring that on you,” I said. “I just—I’m not sure if I can do it.”

He watched me. “The renovations, you mean?”

“The renovations,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “And the… living in the same hundred-mile radius as you.”

I wished to God he didn’t look so hurt when I said it.

He cast his eyes down, folding his arms in front of him. The skin of his wrist looked so milky smooth.

“I won’t come to bother you in Berrydale, Henry, if it isn’t your wish,” he said. “I can leave you alone.”

I bit my lower lip. “It isn’t about that,” I said.

“It clearly is.”

“Trust me, even if you left me alone, I still wouldn’t be able to live in Berrydale,” I said.

“Because I’m that awful of a memory for you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I never had any clue I hurt you so badly.”

“It’s not just that, either—”

“It is,” he snapped, running his fingers through his hair, exasperated. “I truly hate myself, sometimes, Henry. I’ve made it so that you can’t stand me. No one can, of course. Even Princess Emma wants to get as far away from me as possible. I can see it. You were always the one person who truly saw me, and I ruined it, and I don’t deserve to have you as my friend—or have you in any way—”

“Stop.” I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t say anything, but I had to make him stop.

“It’s because you hate me, and you don’t know how to let me know,” he said. “You don’t have to. You should hate me—”

“It’s because I want you, Sebastian,” I finally said, the words erupting from somewhere far inside me. “I want you badly, and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I can never have you. Do you have any idea what I was thinking about at the fairgrounds?”

He was stunned. Silent. Like a startled animal.

I let out a heavy breath, turning to lean over the fireplace. I was unraveling like a spool of yarn down a goddamned staircase, and I couldn’t do anything to stop myself.

“I was thinking about it again. About what our lives would be now if you’d never been the prince,” I admitted, my body growing hot. “About us having some small cottage. About—fuck, about being yours, really yours, for once. And how that’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. It’s pointless. It hurts. It hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt, and I’ve been hurt a lot, Sebastian. And that’s why I wasn’t going to come here in the first place.”

“I understand,” he whispered. He cleared his throat, and when I looked over at him, he finally looked alive again, instead of like a stunned deer in headlights. “We feel the same way, Henry.”

“There’s no chance we feel the same way.”

“We feel the same way,” he repeated, his voice firm.

We lapsed into silence. The sound of the fireplace popped and popped, and I got too hot standing over it. I leaned back and collapsed onto one of the chairs nearby, feeling a gentle breeze blow in through a slightly cracked window at the side of the room.

I had known Sebastian wanted sex from me, especially since he’d been starved for it without any men, but… what he was talking about now wasn’t just sex.

He sounded like he was saying he wanted more, too.

The silence stretched on so long I felt like it would shatter, and finally, we spoke at the same time.

“I—”

“You can—”

Sebastian let out a small sigh, smiling. “Since when are we awkward like this?”

“Painfully awkward,” I said.

“Glad I’m not the only one who feels like I can’t put two words together.”

“I could just say