Sleepy Fox Hollow [m] nomajoka

The widow leaned in — but for something that cut deeper than any kiss. 

He pulled away. The venom in her voice did not match the wounded doe from before — but he deserved this. 

He knew he deserved it. 

We were fine before you. You vere. But you vere not fine without him. The man that saved her daughter’s life — the man that stood between everything Anselm had been raised to know, and everything he now wanted. 

She pointed out his hypocrisy, and by god he earned every spate of venom lobbed his way. No! He did not want to share Etienne — no more than he wanted to admit he was a monster, that he was in denial of his true nature, that he was —

if he never admitted it, then there was hope it would never be true. 

Fine! Leave! Anselm exhaled through his nose, the salt-taste of something worse than suffering scouring his throat. 

Loneliness.

 Everything she said might be true, and the fear of this settled into his muscles and soured them. 

Leave like everyvone else does. But you vould be proving my point — to spite your daughters. 

He did not want to hurt Etienne anymore than he wanted to beg the widow to stay. His pride allowed neither as an option. I do not know vhat I vant. A deep unhappiness simmered in his voice. but I know if you leave, you pay a vorse price than being spurned by a man vho vill not marry you. It is not — Anselm struggled genuinely to be vulnerable despite the way she had just razed him open: it is not how I vas raised. I am bad, Heda! I make everyvone —

His voice rose to a hysterical pitch. I make everyvone leave. 

Is that vhat you vant for a husband, Heda? 

Is that vhat you vant your daughters to see, and for them to grow to expect from their own husbands? Tears rimmed his eyes as he finished, bringing his gaze to rest on the face of a woman who by all rights deserved to cut him down.