Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(79)

“How long have you known?” she asked tersely. “When did you know it was me?”

Roman paused, his jaw clenched. He continued to gently gather her letters. “I knew from the beginning.”

“The beginning?”

“From the first letter you sent,” he amended. “You didn’t mention your name, but you talked about your job at the Gazette, the columnist position.”

Iris froze in horror, listening to him. He had known all this time? He had known all this time!

“I honestly thought it was a prank at first,” he rambled on. “That you were doing it to get in my head. Until I read the other letters—”

“Why didn’t you say something to me, Kitt?”

“I wanted to. But I was worried you would stop writing.”

“So you thought it best to play me for a fool?”

His eyes smoldered with offense. “I never once played you for a fool, Iris. Nor did I ever think that of you.”

“Were you humoring me, then?” she asked. She hated how her voice trembled. “Was this all some joke to play on the poor low-class girl at work?”

She hit a nerve. Roman’s face crumpled, as if she had just struck him.

“No. I would never do any of those things to you, and if you think that I would, then you don’t—”

“You lied to me, Kitt!” she cried.

“I didn’t lie to you. All the things I told you … none of them were lies. None of them, do you hear me?”

Iris stared at Roman. He was red-faced and holding her letters to his chest, and she suddenly had to add new layers to him. All the Carver details. She thought of Del, realizing that Roman had been an older brother; he had lost his sister. He had pulled her from the waters after she had drowned on her seventh birthday. He had carried her body home to his parents.

A lump rose in her throat. Iris closed her eyes.

Roman sighed. “Iris? Will you come here? Sit beside me for a while, and we can talk more.”

She needed a moment to herself. To process this snarl of feelings within her.

“I need to go, Kitt. Here. Take your letters. I don’t want them.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want them? They’re mine.”

“Yes! And that’s the other thing you lied to me about!” she said, pointing. “I asked you to send my old letters back. The ones I wrote to Forest. And you said you couldn’t.”

“I said I couldn’t, because I didn’t want to,” said Roman. “Did you finish reading my last letter? Although by the looks of it … I don’t think you can even begin to understand what your words mean to me. Even if they were addressed to Forest in the beginning. You were a sister writing to her missing older brother. And I felt that pain as a brother who had lost the only sibling he ever had.”

Iris didn’t know what to do. With her pain or with his and how they were suddenly fused. A warning flashed in her mind; she was dancing too close to the fire, about to get burned. Her armor had been stripped away, and she felt naked.

“Here,” she said, handing him the last of the letters. “I need to go.”

“Iris? Iris,” he whispered, but when he reached for her hand, she evaded him. “Please stay.”

She took a step back. “There are things … things I need to do so I need to … I need to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but that was never my intention, Iris. Why do you think I’m here?”

She was almost to the door. She paused but avoided meeting his gaze. She stared at her letters, clutched fiercely in his hands.

“You’re here to outshine me again,” she said in a detached tone. “You’re here to prove your writing is far superior to mine, just like you did at the Gazette.”

She turned to flee but hadn’t made it two steps when she heard a clatter—the sound of a cot creaking and a grunt of pain. Iris glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening when she saw it was Roman, standing on one foot and ripping the intravenous needle from his hand.

“Get back in bed, Kitt,” she scolded.

“Don’t run from me, Iris,” Roman said as he began to hobble toward her. “Don’t run from me, not after what we’ve just lived through. Not without granting me one final request.”

Iris winced as he struggled to reach her on one foot. She moved forward, hands ready to catch him, but he took hold of the doorframe and found his balance, his blue eyes piercing hers. There was only a slender amount of space between their bodies, and Iris almost backed away, fighting the taunting pull she felt toward him.

“What is this request, then?” she asked coldly, but it was only to hide how her heart ached. “What is so important to you that you had to act like a fool and yank a needle from your vein, and possibly tear your stitches, and—”

“I never lied to you,” Roman said. His expression softened but his eyes remained keen, and he whispered, “You asked me this once, months ago, and I refused to answer. But I want you to ask me again, Iris. Ask me what my middle name is.”

She gritted her teeth, but she held his stare. Her memory began to roll like a phonograph, and she heard her past voice, snide and amused and full of curiosity.

Roman Cheeky Kitt. Roman Cantankerous Kitt. Roman Conceited Kitt …