Chapter 105: Apology

Third person point of view

Torin had been staring at them for a while now and they had not done a single thing worth watching. They just stood there being trees, which was exactly what they had been doing before he sat down and would continue doing long after he got up. But staring at them required nothing from him, and right now, requiring nothing from him was exactly what he needed.

His ribs ached when he breathed too deeply. He had learned to breathe shallowly without thinking about it, small careful breaths that kept everything from complaining too loudly. The cut above his eyebrow had healed clean, which was one thing at least.

The rest of it was taking longer.

Not the physical part. The physical part he could handle. He had been hit harder than that before and by things significantly less motivated than Logan in full red-eye mode. The physical part would sort itself out in a few more days and then it would be like it never happened.

The other part was less straightforward.

He was still sitting with what he had said on this bench two days ago. The words themselves had not surprised him. He had known they were coming eventually. He had been walking around with them for long enough that saying them out loud had felt more like putting something down than picking something up. But the timing. The way it had ended. The black wolf coming out of the trees was like judgment arriving ahead of schedule.

He exhaled through his nose.

The trees continued to do nothing.

Footsteps came from the direction of the house.

He knew who it was before he looked. He knew the pace of those footsteps. The particular weight behind them, the way they pressed into the ground with the certainty of someone who had never once walked into a room uncertain of their right to be there.

"You are blocking the sun," Torin said. Without turning.

"There is no sun." Rhydor stopped beside the bench. "It is cloudy."

"Then you are blocking the clouds."

Rhydor said nothing to that.

He just stood there.

Torin did not move over. He did not gesture at the empty end of the bench or make any indication that the company was being invited.

Rhydor sat down anyway. On the far end. Not close. Just there, his elbows on his knees, looking at the same trees Torin had been looking at.

They sat like that for a moment.

"Your face looks better," Rhydor said.

Torin touched the healed skin above his eyebrow with two fingers. "It will look even better when you stop staring at it."

Rhydor looked away.

The clouds above them shifted without doing anything dramatic about it. Somewhere in the trees the bird that had been going through its four notes all week was going through its four notes again.

"Why are you here, Rhydor," Torin said. Not a question exactly. More like a door being held open just wide enough.

"I wanted to apologize."

"You already did that."

"I wanted to do it again."

Torin turned his head and looked at him properly. At the jaw that was set in that familiar way. At the hands resting still on his knees. At the face that was doing the thing it always did when Rhydor was carrying something he did not know how to put down without making a spectacle of it.

"Are you going to cry?" Torin asked. "Because I want to be upfront about the fact that I am not equipped for that today."

"I do not cry," Rhydor said. Flat and immediate.

"Everyone cries."

"I do not."

Torin looked at him for a long moment.

"Liar," he said.

Rhydor’s jaw moved. A small thing. Just the muscle in it jumping once and settling.

"I should not have attacked you," he said.

"No," Torin agreed. "You should not have."

"I was not in control."

"You are never in control when it comes to her." Torin turned back to the trees. "That is the whole problem, Rhydor. Not the specific moment. The whole pattern."

Rhydor said nothing.

"You heard what I said to her," Torin said.

"Yes."

"And you lost your mind."

"Yes."

"At least you admit it."

Torin stood up. He stretched slowly, and his ribs made their opinion known in that low, persistent way they had been doing since Logan introduced them to a tree trunk at high speed. He ignored them and rolled his shoulders and turned to face his cousin.

"I am going to say something," he said. "I need you to actually listen."

Rhydor looked up at him. "I am listening."

"I am not going to try anything with her. I told her I was not asking for anything and I meant every word of it." He held Rhydor’s gaze steadily. "But if you ever do that again. If you ever come at me again because you cannot manage yourself over words that were not even directed at you." His voice dropped. Quiet and completely clear. "I will not regret breaking your neck."

Rhydor looked at him. Nothing moved in his face.

"You could not break my neck," he said. "Even if you tried."

"Want to find out?"

They looked at each other.

The bird went through its four notes.

"I am sorry," Rhydor said.

Torin looked at him for a long moment. Then he exhaled.

"Yeah," he said. "Sure."

He sat back down. Not on the far end this time. Beside him. Close enough that their shoulders were almost touching the way they used to sit when they were younger and the world was significantly less complicated.

"Why are you really here," Torin said. "I want the actual reason. Not the apology. That was real but it is not the reason you came out here and sat down."

Rhydor was quiet.

The quiet stretched long enough that Torin had started to think he was not going to get an answer. Then Rhydor spoke.

"I do not know how to be around her anymore."

Torin looked at the trees.

"Every time I try to fix something I break something else," Rhydor said. The words came out slowly. Like they had been sitting somewhere for a while and were not used to the light. "I thought bringing the journal would help. I thought the kitchen would help. I go to the stream and she cannot even look at me anymore."

"So you came to sit with me instead."

"You are the only person here who has known me long enough to tell me when I am being an idiot without me wanting to throw them through a wall afterward."

Torin nodded slowly. "You are being an idiot."

"I know."

"Do you want me to tell you how to fix it?"

Rhydor looked at him. "Yeah, that’s why I’m here."

"Stop trying to fix it."

Rhydor frowned. The specific frown he had been doing since he was twelve years old when something did not match the answer he had already decided on.

"You cannot undo what you did," Torin said. "You cannot go back and make her forget any of it. None of that is available to you anymore." He leaned back slightly. "All you can do is be there. Show up. Consistently. Without expecting it to count toward anything. Without keeping score."

Rhydor stared at the ground in front of his feet.

"I have never liked your answers," he said.

Torin smiled at the trees. "That is how you know they are the right ones."

Rhydor made a sound that was not quite a laugh. It was close though. Closer than Torin had expected.

The clouds shifted again. Still not doing anything dramatic about it. Just moving the way clouds moved, slow and unbothered, going somewhere nobody had asked them to go.

"You love her," Rhydor said.

Torin did not look at him. "I care about her. There is a difference."

"Is there?"

"Yes." He kept his eyes on the trees. "One of us wants to possess her. The other one wants her to be happy. Those are not the same thing."

Rhydor’s jaw tightened. Torin felt it without looking.

"I am not your enemy," Torin said. He turned his head and looked at him properly. "I have never been your enemy. Not once in my life. But if you keep treating everyone who gets close to her like they are trying to take something from you, you are going to end up standing alone in a very large empty space and wondering how you got there."

"I am already alone," Rhydor said.

Torin looked at him. At the face that was giving nothing away the way it always gave nothing away. At the eyes that were doing the thing they occasionally did where the thing sitting behind them was much larger than the expression in front of it.

"You do not have to be," Torin said quietly.

Rhydor looked at him.

They sat with that for a moment.

"You would still fight for her," Rhydor said. "If I gave you the chance."

Torin held his gaze. "Yes."

"Even after everything you just said."

"I said I was not going to try anything. I did not say I felt nothing." He did not look away. "Those are also not the same thing."

Rhydor was quiet for a long moment. The kind of quiet that meant something was being turned over and examined from every available angle before any conclusion was reached.

"I am not going to give you that chance," he said.

Torin almost smiled. "For sure."

Rhydor stood up.

He looked down at Torin sitting on the bench with his almost healed ribs, his almost healed eyebrow, and his complete inability to make anything simple.

"If you ever hurt her again," Torin said, looking up at him. "If you ever make her cry again." He paused. Let it sit. "I will not break your neck. I will break every bone in your body. One by one. In order. And I will enjoy every single one."

Rhydor looked at him. His face did not move.

"As I said," he replied. "You could try."

"You think I cannot spank you just because you grew tall." Torin tilted his head slightly. "I have been putting you on the ground since you were nine years old. Height has not changed the fundamentals."

Rhydor reached out.

His hand landed on Torin’s shoulder. He held it there for a moment, his grip firm and present, and something in the gesture said everything that neither of them had said directly in this entire conversation.

"Thank you," Rhydor said. Quiet and genuine. "For keeping her safe."

Torin looked at the hand on his shoulder. Then up at his face.

"I will always do that," he said. "With or without your permission."

"And yes," Rhydor added. His hand squeezed once. "I am stronger than you."

He let go. Turned. Walked away across the yard toward the house.

Torin watched him go.

"Idiot," he muttered. But he was smiling. Just a little.

"I heard that," Rhydor replied. Without turning around or slowing down.

Torin leaned back on the bench.

Above him, slowly and without any particular announcement, the clouds moved apart and the sun came through.

He looked up at it.

Then he closed his eyes and let it sit on his face and breathed as deeply as his ribs would allow.