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“Do you love me?”
The question rang out in the empty silence of the House, filling the space with the nervousness it carried, the unsurety. It’s speaker stood stiffly, hands clasped together, brows furrowed, her eyes carefully schooled but hollow enough to indicate that she’d already expected a certain answer.
Cassian’s head snapped up from the report he was reading, comfortable on the couch, and assessed his mate.
“What?” He asked, bewildered, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.
Nesta shifted, averting her gaze and instead focusing on one of Feyre’s paintings, a depiction of the three brothers in the snow, Azriel standing victorious. It was last Solstice, a time when things were still so tenuous between them. Things had changed dramatically in the months since, most significantly of which being the acknowledged mating bond between the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death.
“Did you just ask me if I loved you?” Cassian asked again, anger and hurt welling in his chest at the idea that, after everything, she didn’t know what she meant to him.
“It’s just…” she started, but stopped, and suddenly that anger evaporated. Nesta never stuttered, never fumbled over her words. “It’s just, you’ve never said it before. The words, I mean.”
Cassian stared at his mate for several seconds, blinking rapidly. That couldn’t be true. After everything they’d been through, it wasn’t possible that such a thing could have been missed. Surely, he had-?
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, evaluating his gaze, assessing how upset he was. “I’m not Feyre, I’m not…easy to love. I know what I’ve done will never allow me that same kind of affection you all have for her, or Elain, or Mor, and that’s okay. I was just…curious.”
“Nesta…” He stared, mind reeling at the idea that he had somehow never told her those simple three words. Not that night when she finally admitted why she pushed him away, not on Ramiel, and not after she gave everything for Feyre. How could he not have?
“You don’t have to answer that question, it was foolish to ask. I’m happy with what we have. I’m happy being your mate. Forget I said anything.”
He was losing her, he realized, she was shutting down like she did when she’d first been brought here. And yet all he could do was gape at her like a fish, stunned into silence. He knew he needed to speak, needed to get up and do something to reassure her that he did, very much, love her. He loved her more than a male could love anything. But by the time that thought had entered his head and the words had formed on his tongue, she offered him the smallest of smiles, one far too understanding, and left, her Valkyries awaiting her in the training ring.
Shooting to his feet, he made to go after her, to pull her aside, but as he stepped into the hall, he came face to face with Gwyneth Berdara, clearly also on her way up to the ring. He said her name, a bit breathless, and the red-haired Priestess met him with a raised brow, awaiting his question.
“Is Nesta alright?” he asked, brows furrowing together.
Gwyn blinked and tilted her head, assessing him far too deeply than what should be normal. She was almost like Azriel. “What do you mean?” she replied.
“It’s just…she just asked if I loved her,” he blurted, unsure if his relationship with Gwyn was close enough to share this information, but the words out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“Do you?”
“What?” He asked, incredulous, “of course I do. She’s my mate, Gwyn.”
“But is that the only reason?”
Eyebrows shooting up, he stared at her in shocked silence. Gwyn had stiffened in her posture and crossed her arms, something akin to frustration in her eyes. It occurred to him, then, that she did know what was wrong with Nesta and was prying free a confession from him.
“No,” He replied. “No, I love her because she is strong and resilient, and fiercely loyal. I love her because she isn’t afraid to cut down a man who simply looks at her the wrong way, but will also sacrifice everything for those she loves. I loved her from the moment I saw her, in the mortal realm. The bond had little to do with it.”
Gwyn nodded slowly, listening to his words. She held him by a thread for several tense seconds, and he wondered briefly if this was how he was going to meet his end, at the wrath of a Valkyrie.
“She asked us, yesterday, if we thought it was strange that you hadn’t said it. We said yes. But then she said she was alright with it, because she knew that she was a hard person to love. She said she didn’t expect that from you and was happy to simply fulfil the bond. We tried to convince her it wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to discuss it further.”
“But why would she think that?” he stuttered, replaying every instance in his mind, trying to find the moments where she’d have reason to come to her conclusions.
“I don’t know Cassian, it probably has something to do with the fact that she can’t leave her own home on her own free will, was molded into the soldier you wanted her to be, and because you told her everyone hates her.”
Suddenly, the world came to a screeching halt. With wide eyes, he watched Gwyn’s face morph from calculated impassivity to irritation. Everyone hates you. He’d said those awful things months ago, he didn’t think she actually believed them. But her other words, the reality of their situation here, also settled something deeply uncomfortable within him.
“She told you I said that?” he asked quietly, unsure why he wanted to know. Gwyn scoffed.
“She mentioned it offhand during one of her more severe self-deprecating spirals. I almost killed you for it then and there. I was suspicious of this arrangement, though I knew its purpose, but knowing you said that to her solidified for me that she submitted to it, to you, because she does love you, and her family, and wanted to be something you all could accept. She asked you if you loved her today, Cassian, because she wants to know if she’s done enough to earn it. What did you say to her?”
“I didn’t…” He started, then stopped, guilt overwhelming him. “I didn’t get the chance to say anything.”
Gwyn’s eyes narrowed, and he was once again unsure of the safety of his life. “I suggest you change that,” she replied, “but not now. It will just sound ingenuine. Make it good, General. Make it real.”
Without another word, she spun on her heel and left him there, aimless in the hallway, without a single idea of how to make it up to his mate.
---
Azriel’s fist landed hard on his cheek, enough to send him into the dirt in the makeshift ring at the back of the River House. He hadn’t even seen it coming, had been so distracted with his own failures, that he didn’t register the blow until he was staring up at his brother, who was staring back with wide eyes.
“What the fuck has gotten into you?” he asked, shadows swirling over Cassian’s feet as if trying to determine that answer for themselves. “You haven’t let me get a hit like that in since we were in our twenties.”
“Shut up,” he snarled, getting back onto his feet and resuming their spar. Azriel eyed him suspiciously, but obliged his challenge, the pair of them moving swiftly at each other just like they always did. This time, Cassian stayed on his feet for all of two minutes before he was air born again, this time courtesy of a swipe to the back of his legs.
“Gods, Cass,” came another voice, Rhys, who watched from the side, “are you sick or something?”
Sitting up, Cassian ran a tired hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. At once, he felt the scrutinizing gaze of both of his brothers, the fact that he didn’t jump right back up for a rematch something deeply startling to them.
“When did you tell Feyre you loved her?” He asked, watching as Rhys’ eyebrows raised.
“Immediately. Many times at once,” his brother said, fondness in his eyes despite the concern in his expression. “Why?”
Azriel immediately followed up with, “What did you do, you moron?”
Cassian was quiet for a moment, debating if he wanted to tell them any of it. The last thing he wanted was for Rhys or Azriel to agree with Nesta’s evaluation of herself, to deem her unlovable or that she hadn’t earned it. But he didn’t know who else to turn to. After all, there were only so many mated couples at his disposal. Dipping his head, he admitted,
“Nesta asked me today if I loved her. Apparently, I’ve never said it.”
The silence he was met with was long enough that he looked up to assess his brothers’ faces. He supposed he shouldn’t be shocked to find anger on both of them.
“What? You mean you haven’t told her you loved her?” Rhys asked, “it’s been months since the Blood Rite and you both made your intentions to each other clear. Did you not say you loved each other then?”
“She did,” Cassian said, “I guess I…I guess I didn’t. I thought I had, thought it was clear in my actions or my affection. But if she asked, that clearly means I haven’t. She apparently assumes my care for her goes as deeply as the mating bond requires. According to Gwyn, she asked because she wanted to know if she’d earned it.”
“Gods, Cass.”
“I must say, I was not expecting you to be this worked up over it,” Cassian said dryly to Rhys, a frown tugging at his lips.
“I was not expecting you to be this much of an idiot, but here we are,” he replied, crossing his arms. “Best not tell Feyre, she’ll kill you.”
“I have half a mind to go at you myself,” Azriel added. “Nesta’s self-hatred goes deeper than any of us ever knew, of course she doesn’t think you love her, that she doesn’t deserve it. You do, don’t you?”
“Don’t be a prick,” Cassian snapped, bitter shame welling in his chest. “You know the answer to that.”
“He’s right, though, Cass,” Rhys said, settling down on the ground beside him. “Nesta and I may have largely been at odds the entire time we’ve known each other, but even I could see that she relies on words to process her feelings. Normally, she uses them to protect herself, making them sharp and deadly, hurtful. It makes perfect sense that she’d need someone to actively tell her how they feel about her for her to feel safe.”
Cassian’s shoulders slumped. “She said she knew she wasn’t easy to love, like Feyre was. I asked Gwyn if she’d talked to the Valkyries about it and instead, she dressed me down. Said I couldn’t expect anything else since we put her in a House she can’t easily leave on her own, made her a soldier, and…well, I may have said some stupid things.”
Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, expectant, and begrudgingly he let him see that awful night, her bruised face and the scathing words they had for each other. The High Lord let out a long breath.
“Stupid is putting it lightly. If Feyre or Elain ever know you said that, I won’t stop them from skinning you alive.”
“I know,” Cassian said, “don’t think I haven’t regretted it for every second afterwards.”
“I’ve been thinking about the House myself,” Rhys continued, “Elain made a comment to me the other day, marking the similarities of putting Nesta up there and Feyre’s time in Spring. I think because Nesta made the House, we could work around the magic preventing the winnowing, or at least find an easier way. She has some magic left, I can feel it, winnowing shouldn’t be a problem for her to learn. I know I’ve been doting her with gifts, and I don’t plan to stop, mind you, but I’ll talk to her, too. Make it clear that she has never been hated, just misunderstood, perhaps. I need to apologize, anyway, for my threats when she told Feyre the truth. But that doesn’t make up for you, brother. If my mate had told me that, I’m not sure what I would do.”
“I hope you have some grandiose plan to fix it,” Azriel said, “let me guess, you didn’t say anything when she asked, did you?”
When Cassian remained silent, both of his brothers let out exasperated sighs.
“I know I’m an idiot, just tell me how to fix it,” he pleaded, ignoring the sting to his pride. “I can’t let her think she hasn’t earned my love when she’s had it from the moment we met.”
“When I was content to let Feyre hate me for the rest of my life, it was some of the most agonizing despair I’ve ever been in. Even afterwards, I wasn’t convinced she truly loved me for a while. Or at the very least, that I didn’t deserve it. Once we became accustomed to each other, she always knew when I felt that way and would tell me directly how she feels. Would make me say it back to her. It was uncomfortable, but it worked, after a while. I suggest you start there, by actually saying it.”
“Gwyn said she wouldn’t believe me if I just said it,” Cassian replied, “that I had to make it up to her.”
“Of course she won’t,” Azriel said, “she probably won’t believe you the next time you say it either. Or the time after that. But that’s why you remind her in the ways that she responds to the best. In Nesta’s case, words. She uses action to express her feelings, too, but I’d bet a decent amount of coin that she’s never been in an environment where she can actually receive affection in the ways she likes best.”
“I’m sure she knows you care for her, Cass, may even subconsciously know that you probably do love her. But sometimes, people need to hear the words themselves. I didn’t know I did until Feyre told me,” Rhys added, his expression troubled, such genuine concern in his face that it made Cassian’s chest tighten.
“So, what, I should go back to the House and paint it all over the walls?”
Rhys laughed. “No, you go back to the House and get on your knees to apologize. The House is magic, isn’t it? Have it bring you what she likes, and take care of her tonight. Don’t let her say no. Then pour your heart out. You’re terrible at it, but it never hurts to practice.”
Cassian grumbled, but knew his brother was right. He wanted to fix this now, not later, and that meant getting his ass back to the House, to his mate. He’d always thought himself a master in the art of romance, but it was becoming abundantly clear that what he’d considered love was more superficial than what this was. He wanted to do more for Nesta, make sure she knew that she was everything.
“Nesta’s felt hatred enough, I think,” Rhys said, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. “As her mate, and as someone who loves her, it’s your job to remind her that there’s more to living than that kind of misery. As her family, we will help, but you are her person, Cass. Remind her of that. Don’t let her think she has to earn that kind of love from you.”
Cassian nodded, letting out a long sigh and with it the tension in his shoulders. He accepted Rhys’ hand to pull himself up, and smiled slightly at the clap on the back his gave.
“And if you fuck it up, we’ll also be here to beat your ass.” Rhys finished, and by the look in Azriel’s eyes, he knew that his other brother agreed. He may even beat his ass now.
But he would avoid that fate at all costs, and as he shot into the sky, intent on romancing his mate, he was more determined than he’d ever been in his life to succeed.
---
When Nesta felt brave enough to go up to their room that evening, she was fully intent on pretending the conversation from that morning never happened. She’d never seen Cassian so bewildered at anything, and the guilt had eaten her alive all day. It only got worse when he never showed to the training ring, and though both Emerie and Gwyn were ready to drag him out by the ear, she didn’t want their wrath unleashed on him for something she brought upon herself.
She loved Cassian. She loved him so much it hurt to breathe. There was nothing in this world that had ever compared to the care, the devotion she felt for him. But she knew, had heard from Feyre, that sometimes mates weren’t good matches. That the whirlwind, breathtaking romance that she’d seen her sister and her mate have wasn’t necessarily the norm. And though every time she laid eyes on her own mate, her heart nearly fluttered out of her chest, she couldn’t expect him to feel the same way, after all she’d done. It was enough if he was simply content to spend time with her, to care for her as someone important, perhaps, even if she wasn’t the one person, he loved more than anyone, as he was to her.
So when she finally pushed open the doors to the large master suite of the House, she was fully committed to erasing her foolishness from the record, carrying on as normal. But those plans were immediately halted when she was met with the pleasant scent of roses, of lavender, and her eyes took in the obscene number flowers around the room. And in the middle, in a constant state of sniffles, was Cassian, who had just sneezed so loud the furniture rattled.
“I um…I asked the House to give me things you liked and well, I think it got a little out of control,” he said, and as she peered further into the room, she saw dozens and dozens of books, piles of chocolates, and, yes, even a tiny Pegasus, which was flapping angrily, waiting to be let out. Moving to the side, she watched in amusement as it darted past her and out the door, off to go wherever it was that the House’s creations ended up in. When she turned back to her mate, she found him standing sheepishly, a hand at the back of his neck.
“This is lovely, but you’ll be sick if the flowers stay here all night,” she said with a smile, and the House dutifully moved them, by the sound of things, to various places throughout the rest of the rooms. “What’s the occasion?”
Cassian’s smile finally cracked then, and she saw the depth of guilt in his eyes. Taking in a breath, she let him approach her, let him run his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, until he cupped her face, his fingers warm and calloused against her cheek.
“I royally messed up this morning,” he said, and she opened her mouth, to protest, but he continued, “you asked me a very important question and I was stupid enough to just stare at you. It must have been embarrassing, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me for that.”
“Cassian, it’s alright, really, we don’t have to-”
“I do love you, Nesta.”
All at once, she froze, sucking in a gasp, and stared at him as his hands shifted, one raising to unpin her braid to her scalp, letting it fall over her shoulder, while the other held her jaw, keeping her in the moment with him.
“I love how the first time you saw me in the human lands, you didn’t so much as bat an eye even though you were probably terrified. I love how you never backed down from a challenge and were able to meet me at every blow. I love how, after everything, you still sacrificed yourself for your family and this Court, for me, when it mattered the most. I love that you care about the people in this Court, the disadvantaged, and I love that you took a situation that wasn’t entirely fair to you and made something amazing out of it. I love that, even when I knocked you down at every opportunity, you still fought, even if it was just to spite me in the beginning.”
Nesta’s throat was tight but she remained still, her hands pressed lightly on his stomach, to steady herself. With clever fingers, he undid the strands from her braid, brushing them through her long tresses until he was happy with how they fell.
“I love that look on your face when I’ve said something you find offensive but still endearing, I love the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re bothered by something, I love the way your hair covers your face in the mornings and I have to weed my way through it to kiss you. I love your I-Will-Slay-My-Enemies look and all the other faces you make, the ones just for me, just for your sisters, and the ones for any male you deem in need of a proper dressing down.”
When the first tear rolled down her cheek, he caught it with his thumb, brushing comfortingly along the bone. His other arm slid to wrap around her waist, pulling her into him as his voice dropped to a low murmur,
“I love the sound you make when you find a comfortable position right before you go to sleep, and the tiny, satisfied little grin you get when you finish another book. I love the way your eyes flutter when I lean to kiss you, and the way they darken when you want me inside you. And I love the openness in your expression once we’ve finished, when I can just sit and look at you and ask myself how I got so lucky. I love all of these things, Nesta, and not because of any bond or because you’ve earned it, but because it’s all you. And I’m so sorry that you’ve ever thought otherwise. I’m so sorry that I said those horrible things to you, that you believed them. And I’m sorry that it took this situation for me to properly care for you. I will spend the rest of my life making up for it, making sure you know just how loved you are. By me and everyone else. I’ll tell you every hour, every minute, even. I should have told you from the moment I held you in my arms on that battlefield. I never want you to doubt it again.”
Nesta shuddered and closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. After he’d pressed one to her lips, she replied quietly,
“Thank you.”
Cassian’s smile was sad, even as he held her tighter, closer. “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. Not when it took this for me to realize how moronic I am.”
“Still,” Nesta said, reaching up to brush his cheek with her hand, “you didn’t have to do this.”
“I did,” he said gently, remembering Azriel’s warning that it may be a while before she readily accepted it, “and I’ll do it every night after until you stop saying that.”
Nesta smiled then, small as it was. It was enough for him, just for the moment, and he cupped her face again, tilting it up to kiss her deeply, long and unhurried. The sigh that came out of her when she leaned into it made him grin against her lips, and he took his time kissing her until they were both breathless. Before she could pull back, he moved, continuing to trail his lips down her jaw, her neck. When he came to her shoulder, he stopped, pulling her tightly into his chest.
“I love you,” he said, hands smoothing up her back, “so much, sweetheart. Always.”
“I love you too,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair as his hands found the zipper of the dress she’d changed into after training. When everything she was wearing was in a puddle on the floor, he lifted her, hoisting her into his arms as if she weighted nothing, and set her gently on the bed, surrounded by at least seven new pillows that hadn’t been there this morning. She watched as he tugged his shirt over his head, a grin tugging at her lips.
“I think the House took advantage of your request,” she mused, lifting a heart shaped pillow.
“Or it was calling me an idiot,” he replied, meeting her grin with his own as he crawled onto the mattress. “Which was warranted.” With heartbreaking tenderness, he took her calf in his hand and placed slow kisses to the skin, up and up and up until he was right where she wanted him. Which was, in all honesty, his favorite place to be.
“My beautiful mate,” he murmured, pressing a firm kiss to the apex of her thighs before working her in long, unhurried strokes. The sound that came out of her was nothing short of melodic, and as her fingers threaded back into his hair, he said, “I love that sound, too.”
She blushed, but before she could come up with a suitable retort, her head was falling back against the pillows as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. She lost track of everything when he added one finger then two, save for the continued praises he showered on her, until her back was arching off the bed, her nails digging into his scalp.
“Cassian,”
Her mate hummed in satisfaction, pressing more kisses up her stomach to her breasts, adorning each with several moments of his undivided attention before finally meeting her lips with his own. As she sighed into him, his hand returned between her legs, stroking in just the right way to bring her back to that precipice.
“That’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”
When Nesta shattered around his fingers again, he pressed his forehead to hers, eyes roaming her face. Even as her hands moved down to free him of his pants, he kept his gaze firmly fixed on her, cataloguing every detail.
“I love this face this most,” he said, with a smile, “when you’re blissed out like this.”
“You would,” she breathed, but a grin tugged at her own lips. His laugh vibrated through her, deep and warm, and as their lips met again and he finally slid home, it was pure, overwhelming affection that she felt through the bond, so much so that it tightened her throat all over again. His hand moved then, cupping her cheek while the other propped him up as he moved in her, and he leaned down to brush their noses.
“I love you,” he said, and as he let himself get lost in her, he continued to murmur the phrase against her skin, trailing kisses back down her jaw to her neck, where he buried his face, his thrusts picking up as Nesta ran her hand along his shoulders and up over the ridge of his wing.
He groaned, hands moving to grasp any inch of her he could hold on to at the first touch to the leathery skin. She smiled, tracing her fingers down the soft membrane until he stiffened, his release barreling into him so hard he trembled. Gently, she eased him down on top of her, a hand between his shoulder blades, turning her head to press her own kiss into his hair.
It took him several moments to return to the land of the living, entirely undone in a matter of seconds by the female in his arms, and when he lifted his head she laughed, a soft, lovely thing, a sound only reserved for him. Shifting, he pushed his weight off her just enough that she could breathe before he settled down on his stomach, his face turned towards hers, his hand still stroking her cheek.
“How do you feel?” he asked, breathless.
“I think I should ask you that, you look about ready to pass out,” she replied, turning towards him in an attempt to continue leeching his warmth.
“Entirely your fault, as always,” he said, and he let a comfortable silence hang over them for a moment before he continued, voice softer and more serious.
“What can I do to make it easier for you? So, you never doubt how I feel.”
Nesta stared at him for several moments, lips pursed in contemplation. She hadn’t ever been asked such a thing, and as a result no answers came to her. But Cassian was patient, content to stroke her skin with his thumb.
“Just tell me,” she said after a moment, “that’s all. I don’t need anything grandiose, for the sake of your health.”
Pressing closer, he hummed in affirmation. “Still, you can’t stop me from showering you with affection when we live in a House catered to your every whim. We have at least a hundred pieces of chocolate in here right now.”
Nesta laughed again as she pushed herself up, retreating into the bathroom to properly prepare for bed. Cassian watched her go, a soft smile on his face, before begging the House to restore their bedroom to proper order. It took a moment, and a box of chocolate being dropped on his head, but the mysterious entity acquiesced, and he settled under the blankets, content.
I take it you didn’t fuck it up a voice sounded in his head, and Cassian scowled. His brother had the worst timing.
Ye of so little faith.
On the contrary, I never doubted you. Is Nesta alright?
It’s strange, he answered, hearing you ask that. But she’s alright, we’re alright.
Rhys was quiet for a moment before he replied, it’s a question I intend to ask more often. But I am happy for you, Cass.
“Cassian.”
At the sound of her voice, Cassian tilted his head to see Nesta in the doorway to the bathroom, clad in one of the silk nightgowns he loved so much.
“Tell your brother to fuck off, his meddling is not required.”
Rhys’ laugh was bright in his mind, but he obeyed her command, retreating from Cassian’s mind with a simple message received. Cassian smiled softly at her as she approached, holding out a hand to tug her into his chest once she was back on the mattress. She settled easily, her head in the crook of his neck, and sighed contently as he ran a hand through her hair.
“Rhys was worried about you today. I think he’s going to talk to you, to apologize and try and work out a system so you can leave the House whenever you want.”
Nesta lifted her head, surprise evident in her gaze, and guilt panged in his chest at the knowledge that such a thing was unexpected. “He’s already showered me with enough gifts, I think any differences between us are a thing of the past.”
“Not until you have the freedom you deserve, they’re not,” Cassian replied. “We should have offered you a real choice, one where you didn’t have to pick between being a soldier and facing exile. You needed a purpose, but we should have let you decide one. I should have made more of an effort to speak to you, to help you. It never should have gotten that bad, Nes, and I am so sorry.”
Nesta reached forward to cup his face. “You can stop apologizing, Cass. It’s true, I would have preferred to have more freedom, to have more options. But even though I didn’t want to be a soldier, I tailored it into something I love, something different. Something meaningful to me. We all made mistakes, and if we continue to dwell on them, we won’t ever move forward. So, I forgive you. And once I have the ability to come and go with ease, I’ll explore other things. But you can’t blame yourself forever.”
Cassian contemplated her words, wondering how in the world he was lucky enough to have her, to not have lost her to the agony she was drowning in. She was so strong, his mate, strong and resilient even when it seemed like the opposite, and she’d come so far. And while her request was easier said than done, for he’d always harbor guilt over this, he nodded, determined to give her the life she wanted. Satisfied, Nesta leaned in to kiss him softly before settling back down against him, letting out that little sigh that let him know she was settled.
Waving a hand, the lights in the room flickered off, and he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders before continuing to run his fingers through her hair. It was one of his favorite past times and, delightfully, a sure-fire way to soothe her to sleep.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he said softly, smiling as she nestled further into his arms.
“Goodnight, Cass,” she mumbled, “I love you.”
His heart fluttered the way it always did when she said those words, and he understood further the importance of hearing them. Content with his determination to make up for the months he hadn’t said them, to make up for all the things he could have done better, he placed a kiss on her head and said,
“I love you too, Nes.”