"Is it me that makes you nervous, or do you feel trapped?"

It was the old argument, then. Jo didn't wish to remain rooted, and he wouldn't ever force her. More than anything in this life, he just wished for her happiness, whatever that may be. When she had disappeared, Zach had hoped that she'd found it. But she had returned, and--

It was all so frustrating.

"I'm not my brother. I would never force you to live a life you didn't wish or deny you the freedom you deserve. I know you can't stay still for overly long. Your soul is meant to wander. We could still make this work. You could travel, adventure, do what it is you need." He paused, standing up to collect their bowls. He needed to pace. He needed to do something with his hands. He needed to--

Zach paused in front of her, his gaze searching to meet hers, "I...I would wait for you, Jo." He took her dish and moved toward the counter to set them on top of it, allowing an awkward silence to form, but just for a moment. Much more quietly he continued. "I would take care of our daughter in your absence. My employment allows for that stability for her. And we could take her to see the world when she is old enough. Together."

His gaze drifted to elsewhere in the cottage, his lips forming into a sad line.

"I wouldn't ever keep you from where your heart wants to take you, if only it would take you home sometimes. I would wait for you. Always."

Zach ran his hand through his hair and turned his back, banishing the remains of the meal with a murmur and a flick of his wand. He sounded tired again, morose, "I'm old, Jo. If I wanted someone else, I would have found them in my youth. I wish for you. If only you'd have me."