My eyes heat with tears. “I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper.
“The chances of you losing me are unbelievably small.” A smile is in his voice, and I lift my face slowly.
I know where his eyes should be in relation to the sound of his voice, the dark outline of his soft, wavy hair. Holding my face straight, I do my best to meet his gaze.
For a moment he’s quiet. I can’t breathe, and dread twists a painful knot in my stomach. One hand leaves my waist, and the pad of his thumb lightly touches the top of my cheekbone.
He’s trying to understand why my eyes won’t connect with his. He’s noticing the slight jump when I try to force them to focus.
He’s seeing my truth.
“Kass?” Quiet confusion is in his voice, and I feel him blinking, trying to process.
I feel sick, but I manage to speak in a voice so small. “I’m looking at you…”
His body breaks, and he pulls me to him again. This time his hand holds the back of my neck through my hair. He’s got me flush against him, skin on skin, the warmth of him moving into me, and I feel him breathing as fast I am.
He holds me, and my eyes squeeze shut. I hold him as well, never wanting to let him go, but even more than that—never wanting him to change how he thinks of me.
“What happened?” he finally says. He eases me back, but his hands are still on me, moving up to cup my cheeks. “Were you in an accident? I would have come to you.”
Reaching out to cup his cheeks, I cast my eyes down. “It’s genetic,” I say quietly. “My aunt knew… she hoped it wouldn’t show up in Cam or me…”
“Is Cam—?”
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s fine. He won’t ever…” I can’t say the words.
Logan pulls me to him again, moving us higher on the bed so we’re lying face to face. My eyes are closed, and he lightly trails his fingers over my cheek.
“You would say the sun hurt your eyes,” he says.
“That was the beginning stages.” Photosensitivity is an early indicator… the doctor’s words echo in my mind.
“I thought you were exaggerating,” his voice is rough. “I was such an asshole.”
“No!” My eyes widen, and I fumble for his lips, placing my fingers against them. “Don’t say that! You were the greatest thing… You are…” I can’t finish.
He’s quiet, but my fingers remain on his lips. I trace the outline of them, noting their serious shape, until they move. “So all this time, you’ve been… blind?”
Pulling my lip between my teeth, I do the slightest nod.
“That’s why today… In the bookstore.” He rolls onto his back, and I scoot closer, placing my cheek against his chest. I hear his heart beating. It’s only slightly elevated.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know what you’d done for me at first.”
He tenses. “Don’t apologize to me. I should apologize to you. I was making you choose books and walk through the store like you’d been there before. I was a complete dick.”
“You treated me like I could see,” I say softly. “I want you to continue treating me like I can see.”
Rolling toward me, we’re facing each other again. I know he’s studying me. I can feel the weight of his attempts to understand.
“But your eyes are still so beautiful.” His voice is tentative. “They’re not clouded or blank. Are you in darkness?”
“No… It’s more like a dense fog.” I’m speaking faster. He isn’t afraid or freaked out or trying to find an excuse to leave, and the relief pulsing through me with every heartbeat makes me want to cry. “If things are very close, I can still see them.”
At once he moves so close our noses touch. “Logan!” I squeal, pulling back. He catches me.
“I want you to see me.” His voice squeezes my chest, and this time my eyes do mist.