Savina's withdrawal had worked conviently for him. He loved it when she told him everything on her mind, but this time he didn't think he could have handled it. He couldn't sit there and pretend to comfort her when he was essentially the cause of her pain. It was insulting and cowardly. But since she had not yet wanted to talk about what happened in the past week, he was able to keep from lying to her with false empathy. He didn't know if he could have told her the truth outright until today. And that made him feel terrible. He was just a stupid, selfish coward.
The porch door creaked, but he didn't turn to see who was about to join him. He already knew. In spite of everything, Kansas felt his tail thrum against the floor when her aroma hit him, and when he felt the warmth of her body slipping down beside him. It amazed him that no matter what, seeing her made him so giddy with sudden happiness. He felt her nose against his cheek, and his chest tightened as if a fist had suddenly clenched his heart. He knew with her words that she was finally letting herself feel. And though he loved that she was so comfortable with him, that she was doing it just for a chicken-shit like him seemed so wrong.
Kansas couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes. "I... I know, baby," he said, his voice soft and strung up with sadness. Yeah, he knew she needed him. Or she thought she did. But she didn't need him. All he did was let things happen, terrible things. His pale eyes closed a moment, his brow tight. Finally he began, his voice broken with anxiety and self-loathing. "Savina, I... there's something—something I need to tell you..."