Cassius's crimson eyes lingered on her, his expression unreadable, it was too still, too quiet, as though weighing every word she had said against the years they had lost. Then he looked up and met her gaze. His voice, when it came, was low but sincere, just as Arabella had urged him. She had told him to speak now, to show his heart as bare as he could, before his sister was gone for good.
"Looking after you was never a burden," he said, his firm words reminded Marissa in their youth as she had always seen him alone yet undeterred and powerfully so. He looked at her and a hint of gentleness touched her heart. "It was my responsibility but never something I regretted."
Marissa's eyes softened. "So you knew," she murmured, "that I've always felt guilty… knowing you had to suffer alone for both our sakes."
"You wear your guilt poorly," he replied gently with a faint chuckle. "It wasn't hard to see through."
