be patient, I am getting to the point —
“Atta girl,” he said softly, nudging her cheek gently. He felt the tension in his chest bleed a little at the shift in her thoughts—the way that they were slowly but surely strengthening at the core. What he felt was not quite accomplishment, although it was dangerously close to it. Dempsey felt like a sculptor, his hands dirty with clay and his back aching from the strain, but the finished product coming to life before him. Not that he could take credit for it, but Dempsey was not known for his humility.
So they walk together, side by side, and he sighs in the pleasure of the quiet company. That is, until, her mouth is on his neck and he is contemplating her question before it ever leaves her lips. “No,” he says simply, “I haven’t.” He doesn’t look at her as they keep walking, the shadows of the early light dappling on their backs. “I have hurt before. This may be hard to believe,” a chuckle, “but I am rather selfish, a little lazy, and mostly self-absorbed.” Another contemplative pause, “But my hurting others has always come from being brutally honest about those facts about myself. For all my flaws, I am honest.”
He pauses for a second to look at her, “I promise that I won’t ever lie to you.”
And he wouldn’t.
He could not promise to be her shining knight, or even be a permanent solution to what seemed like her unending pain, but he could be a temporary salve—a needed reprieve. That much he could give her. “Your taste has become much improved, Oksana.” He straightens up, lifting one corner of his mouth into a lopsided grin before winking. “Who would have thought you were capable of improving?”
dempsey