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Summary
“Edward-”
“No. Don’t. You don’t get to tell me how to feel about this. Ever. It’s mine. Mine to carry. Not yours. And I will deal with it however I see fit.”
Susie took a deep breath before answering. Across her sun-kissed knees, her enlaced fingers were white. “I understand that,” she said, at last. “And right now, for you, that means keeping me here?”
It sounded so bloody stupid when she said it out loud. Like this was just a fucking coping mechanism, or something. A trauma response, and nothing more. And she was merely some sort of…lucky charm, for him. A source of stability. An anchor. A touchstone. Edward thought, dizzily, of the London Stone and how it had hummed under his fingers as a train passed beneath the street.
“Yes,” Eddie said. “That’s what it means.”