(GILBERT'S POV)
"Because I already have someone I like."
I kept my eyes closed, unable to look at him. Unable to see the expression on his face. But I could smell it—the shift in his scent, the way the warm woodsmoke turned bitter and cold.
"Someone you've liked," Jasper repeated slowly, "for how long?"
I swallowed hard. "Eight hundred years."
The words fell between us like stones in still water, sending ripples in every direction.
"For eight hundred years," I continued, my voice dropping until it was barely more than a whisper, "I've loved the same person."
I swallowed hard.
"I kept myself untouched all this time. My body. My heart. My soul. I saved every part of myself for him. I waited. I hoped. I prayed that someday, somehow, he'd look at me the way I've always looked at him."
A tear slipped down my cheek. I didn't bother wiping it away. Instead, I let out a hollow, humorless laugh.
