A Fiery Dalliance

XXV

Perrie was perhaps the most infuriating individual that Joe had ever had the displeasure of knowing. But there was a beauty in her that was far greater than her outward appearance.

Joe did not feel worthy standing in her presence. But it was her tenderness that captured him, and it was her tenderness that had brought his greatest failure to the forefront of his mind.

Joe realised then exactly what his mind was doing, as it was entirely separate from his will. Just as he had punished Perrie the night before with his cruelty, he was suddenly testing her tolerance, testing the genuineness of the soft side to her heart.

If she heard of his failure, if she knew it all, then she would know that he was not worth more than a dirty penny, and he would have been right all along to keep her at arm's length.

"You do not have to tell me anything you are not comfortable sharing," Perrie murmured quietly.

She already knows that you are a failure. She doesn't want to hear it confirmed.

Joe's demons echoed in his mind as loudly as a church organ.

"I know I am nosy, and I don't mind my tongue," Perrie continued, "so you must not feel obligated to tell me anything that you do not wish to."

"You do not want to hear it," Joe muttered to himself in realisation.

"No!" protested Perrie. "No, that is not what I said at all. I will hear anything that you explicitly wish to tell me. I know that we ... quarrelled ... last night, but I do not want you feeling obligated to tell me something that you will only regret telling me later ... and I don't want you punishing me for knowing it."

Joe felt the wound in not only himself, but in Perrie's tone. He was so used to her spirit, the rage she fired at him that had only ever amused him. Joe had wounded her, hurt her, and he hated himself for that. He had taken away a part of Perrie that he really lo –

Liked.

"I am sorry," Joe breathed, his voice thick and hoarse. "I am sorry that I have treated you in a way that you entirely did not deserve. I ..." Joe had wanted to say that he was too much like his father, exactly like his father, but then he decided that he did not want to ruin an apology with an excuse. "I treated you horribly last night. I overstepped and imposed upon you in a way that was utterly ungentlemanlike, and then I reacted ..."

"Like a cad?" Perrie finished his sentence for him after Joe had trailed off.

Joe nodded feebly. "Yes." He swallowed loudly and felt his heart hammering inside of his throat.

Her tone as she had called him a cad was sharp and quick, and almost in the exact way that Perrie would chastise him when they were exchanging their usual insults.

Joe knew it was foolish to hope, but that spark of the Perrie he was well seasoned in fighting was a comfort.

Perrie pursed her lips, mulling over his words. "I will listen to you if you still want to tell me what happened."

She had not forgiven him explicitly, and Joe was extremely aware of that fact. She had not said the words, nor did she owe them to him, but Joe still felt as though he was teetering on the edge of a blade despite the small ember of hope that lay glowing in the fireplace of their acquaintance.

"Is there somewhere you might feel comfortable sitting with me?" Joe asked quietly. He could count on one hand the number of people he had told this tale. One finger, actually. Of course, others knew, but Joe had not been the one to relay the story. He had only ever spoken to Ed. Very few others knew of his deafness without knowing the cause of it. Joe had kept it that way. He did not want to risk being overhead.