Despite her not wanting him to see it, Edward knew that she was falling apart, he could sense it. He’d broken her like a toy doll, thrown to the floor in a child-like tantrum. He was nearly at loss for words. What could he say? What would make her feel better? He couldn’t take back what he’d done. It was impossible, and if it weren’t, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He would have done it for her.
Instead of speaking right away he lowered his gaze to the ground, like a dog who’d done something wrong, and who was now being called out for it. He agreed with her; he had been stupid, he was an idiot who’d done the wrong thing. And he couldn’t go back on it now, couldn’t erase it and make it better.
When he lifted his head to look at her again there was shame in his eyes, strong and clear and difficult to mask.
“You’re very wrong about that. I’ve always wanted you. I wanted you in the woods, when I told you that I didn’t. I tried not to, but it didn’t work.” He was nearly whispering now, but he was completely certain that she’d hear him.