Chapter 6 #2
I heap up a plate with one of everything and set it in the middle of the table. I give him one of those fancy square napkins leftover from last year’s Halloween party at the clubhouse.
I sit directly across from him. I pick up a molasses cookie and get right into what I want to say. It’s not going to get any easier as the night goes on. Who knows how long Shadow is going to stay before he bugs out of here too. I don’t want to waste my one day of the month.
“You said that I thought you were some kind of project. You accused me of having an overactive imagination. Of being fanciful.” He waits, clearly amused, thinking that I’m going to try and negate all of that.
“You’re wrong about most of that, but I did have a thought because of what you said.
Everyone deserves to feel comfortable in their skin. You clearly don’t.”
“Wow,” he breathes. Horribly, he starts to slow clap. “I commend you on your powers of observation.”
“Maybe if I saw the scars, you’d be convinced that now you’re just you in my mind. Not a hero. Not a mythical being. Not- not anything better or worse.”
“That’s your icebreaker? You could at least give a guy a moment to break his teeth on this cookie before you try and get him naked. If you want to gape at them, you could just say so.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms defiantly, determined not to show just how much those words slash across my already bleeding heart.
If he can put on an asshole front, and that’s clearly how he wants to play considering the way he showed up, then I’ll force myself to be game.
I thought being blunt about this would help.
I thought that maybe that’s exactly what he’d need.
“This is me saying so. And there’s nothing wrong with those cookies.
They’re perfectly baked, perfectly delicious perfectness. ”
“No.”
“You haven’t even tried one.”
He takes the one stuffed with jam and sinks his teeth into it. He chews aggressively, smearing jam on his lips.
I’ve never wanted to leap across a table and lick raspberry jelly and crumbs off someone as badly as I do right now.
“I’d say,” he says around a mouthful. “That I’ve had better.”
Asshole. Why is being provoked so insanely hot? I don’t have a bully kink and I don’t even like rude people to start with. “Are you ever going to get tired of being witty?”
“The only thing I ever get tired of is those stupid ass motivational posters and sayings. Things like you don’t need to shrink your problems, you just need to get a wider ass load when it comes to your shoulders so you can bear them.”
“Who doesn’t hate those sayings?”
“Most of the world, it would seem. They keep cranking them out and plastering them everywhere.”
“People need hope. I’ll give them that. There’s enough bad in the world. They’re just trying to make someone’s day a little better.”
He jams the rest of the cookie into his mouth, maintains perfect eye contact, and chews obnoxiously just because he thinks it’ll drive me crazy. “What’s wrong with feeling your pain and your emotions, stewing in them, and pulling out nothing but misery and anger, as long as it’s honest?”
“I’m not a therapist, but I’m sure they’d say that there’s plenty wrong.”
Also? There’s plenty wrong with the fact that even open mouth chewing isn’t a turnoff. It’s doing the complete opposite and wreaking havoc with my body so badly that I have to clench my legs as tightly together as possible and it’s still not helping.
“No, you can’t see the scars,” he says. “Don’t you think it’s fucking weird to ask someone that?”
My throat dries out so I can barely swallow. “Anyone else but you.”
“Let me get this straight.” He picks up a molasses cookie and takes a huge bite, chewing so angrily I’m scared he’ll bite his tongue off. “You want me to strip down and get naked here in your kitchen.”
“What are you talking about?” I squeak. “I meant take off your shirt.”
“What would your dad have to say about that? What did he say about you coming to my house and you hosting me here?”
My silence speaks volumes.
“N-nothing,” I finally stammer. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“Ahh.” That speaks volumes too.
“My dad has always left choice up to me, no matter how hard it was for him to do that. I’m sorry. I just wanted to create a safe space with you. I thought maybe you’d want to talk about this with someone. I didn’t want to make things weird.”
“Too late,” he sneers. “Vastly too late. I think weird came and went a long time ago—”
“Okay,” I cut him off. “That’s fine. If you don’t want to, I get it. I just wanted to know why you’re such an ass. Is it because of the scars? Or were you an asshole before the fire? Because if it’s the former, then I just thought it might help.”
“Help what?”
“You. To have someone accept you for who you are.” I clasp my hands together in my lap, but within a few seconds, my palms are soaked.
“I don’t need help. I have literally been trying to tell you that from the first second your dad came here and told me that you wanted to meet me.
” He smacks his palm down on the table so hard it makes me jump, then holds up his hand.
“Five things I don’t need, and I’ll count them off on my fingers for you, since you seem to need a visual.
” He proceeds to do it too, like a total asshole.
“Help. Pity. Saving. More friends. Whatever it is that you’re trying to do here. ”
The coffee is only about half done, but I leap up. I stalk over to it, giving him my back while I try to collect myself.
I’m an idiot. I know that. But he could be a bit more graceful.
I thought that if I gave Shadow tenderness and kindness, or gentleness and sensitivity, then he’d lose his mind. He’d misconstrue all of it and get angry and offended.
I turn to get two mugs out of the cabinet and find him standing.
My heart wrenches, then knocks into my ribs at a crushing pace. Is he going to leave? He hasn’t moved. He’s just standing right behind me.
“You think that’s rude?” he grinds out hoarsely. “You have no idea. What do I have to do to get you to hear me? Scare you? Should I back you up against a wall and trap you and act menacing?” He takes one step forward and I retreat against the cabinets.
My heart is now a careening monster, but it’s hammering hard for all the wrong reasons. I’m not the least bit scared. Like when he barked at me, my stupid body is excited.
“Umm, only if I get to play along,” I whisper. “I’m warning you, though, I might like it.”
He retreats immediately, shaking his head. I don’t know if he’s annoyed that his attempt to fluster me into calling this whole thing off didn’t work, or if he’s amused.
What I do know is that I lose the scent of him as he puts more space between us. No cologne. No trees or spice. What lingers is his simmering emotions. Rage. Dark nights. Pain. A little bit metallic with a hint of something minty and sweet. It shouldn’t be affecting me this way.
It’s more than just our history. It’s pheromones or something. My body likes the scent of his and that’s… that.
It likes more than that.
“I didn’t mean to make it sound like I thought you were a curiosity.
That’s exactly how I didn’t want you to feel.
” He’s not a thing. He’s a person. He was once my person, in a way.
He’s always going to be the man who saved me, who gave me the most priceless gift.
I don’t know how to get that across to him in a way that’s not going to make him unhappy.
Even if I wanted to do it, I don’t know how.
He retreats further across the tiny kitchen, giving me his back.
I don’t actually know what I want to accomplish by him being here and forcing this. Maybe it’s something I can’t let go of because when you’re given the most precious gift, thanks isn’t ever going to be enough. Mere gratitude is a ridiculous concept.
We’re always going to be tethered to each other.
I’ve sensed him in ways I can’t even explain. Maybe that’s just dreams or an overactive imagination and there was no invisible strings and no way I could feel him out there like a nebulous entity, a ghost, or a- a shadow.
But maybe I did. Could. Can.
If only my stupid heart would listen to reason and stop fluttering all over the place.
I curl my palms into tight fists to resist the urge to reach out and intrude on Shadow’s personal space.
I want to press my fingertips to his pulse and feel it beating steadily up into my hand.
I want to trace the outline of his face, take his hands, set my palm straight over his heartbeat.
I want to assure myself that he made it and that he’s alive.
I want him to believe it too.
I don’t expect for him to abruptly turn on me, chest heaving with angry breaths, fire in his eyes like he’s heard my every thought. “In answer to your question, I’ve always been an asshole. The fire just burned away the mask I wore.”
I face him down and I find the compassion I want to give him so maybe he can give it to himself. “I know you’re more than figuratively hurt by that night. You’re going to take it with you forever.”
He curses low under his breath. “Yeah. And I kept that shit locked up tight for a reason. I don’t pull those memories out and sift through them because they’re fun.”
“Of course you don’t.”
He stabs a finger in my direction. “This is the last time we’re doing this.
I’ll stay in Hart and so will you, but separate.
Anything else is a bad idea. I’ve given you enough.
I’ve wasted enough time. You want to think that you ruined it all for me?
Do you want me to blame you and wish I’d never rescued you?
Fine. I blame you. I blame you and I want to punish you, and I want to hate you, so stay away from me. ”
I would. I really would, if that’s what I thought he truly wanted, but the pain in his eyes and the fact that his whole body is visibly trembling, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly tells me just how much he wants me to push back.
“You think that being mean is going to chase me away when I already know what kind of man you are?”
“You have no idea who I am.”
“You’re the kind of man who smashes through a window wearing only a t-shirt to save someone he didn’t even really know, and then went back for her cat, knowing full well that it was going to be worse than hell.”
“I don’t believe in hell.” His bottom lip starts to tremble along with the rest of him. Flames flash in the depths of his eyes, memories made real.
I take slow steps towards the door. The only door in this place other than the one that leads to the tattoo studio below, and that one is locked from the other side. “You saved my life, Shadow. I want you to hear me. Do you?”
“You’re shouting right into my face,” he shouts right back.
“That’s because I need you to hear me.”
“It’s not like I got amnesia that night. I know what happened. I pulled you out. I got burned. Everything that happened after led me here, to a life that’s at least tolerable. Not what I saw myself doing, but It could be worse. All my needs are met.”
“That’s not true.” I’m starting to shake too. My eyes are burning, but I don’t know if tears will drive this man out of his skin or not. I don’t want to risk it. I blink hard and breathe even harder.
“Maybe not, but I don’t need to let my mind spin out of control and remind me of all the things I can’t have. Not being able to control yourself is the greatest danger.”
“There’s such a thing as too much control.
The fire took something from you that night.
You don’t think that you’ll ever have a partner or a companion.
You think no one will want you.” Fuck, I need to shut up.
Just because Shadow doesn’t bother with a filter, doesn’t mean I should blurt every single thought that pops into my head.
He doesn’t soften, even though I sag against the door.
How is this supposed to help him?
“I’m not lonely,” he states flatly, but by the way he arranges his features like he’s never felt a single emotion in his life, I know he’s lying.
“I have my club brothers. Even if I didn’t, you don’t have to sacrifice yourself, especially not with the idea that it might grow into more.
Mercy kissing? Touching? Hard pass. To want to be loved, you’d have to have a heart. ”
Holy fuck. There’s only so much of that I can unpack at one time. It’s hard to ignore the first part, but I latch onto the last. “Whoever made you believe that should be shot. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“I’ve made my peace with not offering forgiveness to the people who don’t deserve it. You just move on. Get on with it. Shut those doors and keep them shut because they’re not worth opening. It’s not avoidance or survival. The best way forward is to not keep looking back like a dumbass.”
He stalks his way across the kitchen, coming at me with the force of a hurricane at his back, but I’m afraid. He’s not going to hurt me. He wants to leave, to take all that hurt and wild energy with him out into the night.
He’s like a wounded animal with his paw in the trap. He needs to free himself and go away to lick his wounds in private.
And I need to be strong enough to let him do that.
If I’d listened to my dad, maybe he wouldn’t have to.
Maybe he wouldn’t be hurting right now. I owe him yet another apology that he doesn’t want to hear.
A thousand words are stuck in my throat, scalding the back of my tongue, weighing heavy on my broken heart, but I can’t say any of them. I need to let Shadow go.
Not forever.
I have no intention of staying away. Not when he clearly, clearly needs a friend. Someone different than the ones he has already. I’m not vain or delusional, but I do believe in the connection we share. It’s not going to be so easily broken.
I step aside, pivoting out of Shadow’s way so he can jerk the door open.
He inhales immediately, gulping in the night, though it’s not much cooler outside than it is in the kitchen.
It’s fresh air. Freedom. He can run from me, and he can run from his thoughts and whatever emotions and memories he’s been trying so desperately not to feel.
He can leave his ghosts behind or lock them back carefully away the minute he steps out the door.
He doesn’t step.
He bursts outside.
His boots clatter down the metal stairs and then he’s striding down the alley, fleeing like all the devils and hounds of a hell he doesn’t believe in, are about to leap onto his back and savage him.
Or like he’s been carrying the weight of them all this time.
And fuck.
I shut my eyes for a whole fucking moment. I make myself take that time. I talk myself down. Count it out. Breathe.
It doesn’t help.
Fuck me for doing it, but I can’t just let him go like this.