Chapter 6 #2
He moves away, probably to finish making breakfast, and I discreetly sniff the air to inhale the amazing smell permeating the room, making my stomach growl, and embarrassing me when Haden looks my way.
I glance away, focused on my watering mouth, and I’m caught off guard when he places a plate full of every good thing in front of me.
I want to recall this smell in my mind when being here is a distant memory, or when it transforms into a dream. I’m so distracted that when he sits in front of me, I jump. My side screams and I do the same, and I take quick breaths waiting for the pain to subside, while I place a gentle hand on it.
“Eat,” he says, concentrating on his breakfast.
I kinda like his brusque tone. It makes me feel cared for, and is so refreshing compared to those slimy words whispered against my face by those men groping my arse to get me outside. Or those grunts falling off their lips when they’re taking their own pleasure.
Haden’s not tender in any way. He’s grumpy, brusque, and keeps people at arm’s length. But even so he’s taking care of me, a stranger, and that’s more than others have ever done for me.
I hope he doesn’t ask me anything. I don’t want to talk about it, because I want to pretend, at least until breakfast is done or when I’m forced to leave, that my life has changed. I want to take these feelings—safety, nurture, and care—with me when I go back to my life outside this place.
Intruding thoughts bring that life forward, and I pass a hand over my face as if to push them away. I make sure not to touch the damaged side.
How am I going to work like this?
How is Dick going to react when there’s no money to collect? I shiver at the vision of his hands on me, because all they bring is torment.
“Stop thinking and eat.” He points to the plate in front of me when I glance at him. “You need it. And thinking on an empty stomach doesn’t help.”
He’s focused on his plate, sure I’ll follow his order, and I do. I pick up my fork but I can’t look away from his face, because somehow it’s softer than before.
I let his silent and strong presence lull me into a false sense of security, and use my fork to cut a piece of pancake and bring it to my lips.
I groan when it melts inside my mouth, but my aching throat stops me from stuffing my face, and consequently being sick from eating too quickly.
Every thought disappears, swallowed by the food making my taste buds sing and my tummy blissfully overjoyed.
But the more I eat, the worse the pain becomes, until each forkful is a chore and not a pleasure.
Haden leaves his chair, and I hear a door opening and closing.
I grab the glass of water in front of me, to try and sedate the fire inside my throat.
A drawer opens, some cutlery sounds, and then a cup of ice cream appears in front of me.
I fight the tears trying to fall. How could I have thought he wasn’t caring?
I glance up, just to find his hand offering me a teaspoon.
“Thank you,” I say, before taking it from his hand. My voice comes out all croaky, and I blush, ashamed that he knows where I’m hurting and why, ashamed he saw everything, and ashamed he had to save me.
He doesn’t talk, but instead goes back to his spot and resumes eating, and for a while that’s the only sound around us.
I look at the pancake on my plate with longing, but I eat my ice cream. My throat doesn’t hurt as much as before, so I devour it. When I’m done, I gently try to lean against the back of the chair, but my ribs protest, so I return to my original position with another long hiss.
Haden leaves the table, taking the plate away with him. There are some opening and closing sounds, and after a minute he’s back and some more water appears in front of me. It’s so damn nice to have someone taking care of me. I wish this was my real life, instead of a fleeting dream.
“Thank you.”
He takes my hand in his, and again his touch awakes all my cells.
Does he want to comfort me?
His hold makes everything better, and I never want him to let go. But after caressing the back with his thumb, he turns it around and places a couple of pills in my palm.
Haden let go.
Losing his warmth is like losing a limb.
He moves away, and begins to clean the table.
I ignore the pills and try to stand up, but he stops what he’s doing and looks at me as if I’ve committed murder.
“Let me help.” I want to give something back and thank him for what he’s doing. Saying thank you doesn’t seem enough.
“Stay.” One word. That’s all he says, and nothing more.
I obey, grateful I don’t have to fend for myself… and admire him while he moves around in the kitchen. Sometimes he’s awkward, as if he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and other times he’s quick and confident.
Haden is an interesting mix of complexities.
He stops and looks between the pills on the table and me.
I pick them up and swallow them with a gulp of water.
Once he’s done tidying up, he helps me get up from the chair.
I grit my teeth expecting the pain, but the pills must have helped, because it’s less than before.
He lets his arm fall to his side and moves a few steps away, giving me space.
He picks up my water, and I follow him to the sofa.
The time to talk has arrived.
“Are you feeling any better?” Haden asks, a hint of concern in his voice.
How long has it been since someone, other than Jeremy, asked me this?
Would he know if I ask about Jeremy?
“I’m okay,” I say instead, sounding like a liar to my own ears.
Haden looks at me, and I’m sure I’m starting to recognise his silences. They’re full of words I understand even if no sound reaches my ears.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He’s awkward, as if his own question surprises him.
No, I don’t. But I’m here in his house and he deserves an answer. I’m not sure why I’m worried about his opinion. I won’t be seeing him after today.
“Did you help me last night?” I’m not avoiding his question. I’m not. Maybe I am a bit. I just need time to find the right words. As if there are right words to explain to someone that I sell my body to survive the consequences of trusting someone I shouldn’t have.
“Yeah, I was out there to answer a call when I saw what was happening.” There’s a fire in his eyes, as if what he saw still makes him angry.
My face goes up in flames. With everything I do every day, I’m surprised I can still be ashamed.
“I don’t usually go out on my own. I always have someone watching my back.” Haden doesn’t need to know that usually we’re both in the same position. He doesn’t need to know that what happened to me is kind of normal.
I hate that being assaulted is something normal in my life. I never thought this could become my reality.
“I met Jeremy, and he’s the reason you’re here.” His lips pull at the corner and my attention focuses there, eager to experience his smile, but nothing happens.
How does he look when he smiles?
“I’m sorry you got stuck with me. I’ll get my stuff and clear out.
” As if I have stuff to take. My clothes are one of the few things I own, and I can’t leave them behind.
I wish I could stay longer but I need to make sure Jeremy’s okay.
To be honest with myself, I’m not ready to leave this apartment and face Dick, though.
I want to stay here and pretend this is my life.
“You can stay here for a couple of days.” His gruff tone makes it an order more than an invite. “But call your friend so he’ll stop blowing up my phone. It’s fucking annoying.”
I nearly giggle, because he looks even grumpier than before with those furrowed eyebrows and lips in a straight line.
My heart sings at the offer, but my brain tells me I should say no.
Staying here means having more problems with Dick; he doesn’t like his property wandering off from under his watch.
But for me there’s something more important.
Can I leave Jeremy by himself? Can I really take what Haden is offering and leave my best friend in the gutter?
No, I can’t. I would never do something like that to him.
“Yes,” I hear myself saying. My mind has a totally different idea of what we should be doing. And no loyalty, apparently.
He shuffles, pauses for a moment, then glances at me as if he has something else to say. The silence stretches, but after a moment he moves away without saying anything.
“I’ll be downstairs at work.”
“Okay.” What kind of job does he do? My mouth runs away from me again. It must hate me. “Are you trusting me to stay here on my own?”
For a long moment he just looks at me, and then I swear his lips curve in a tiny smile. “Rest.” It’s not an invitation but an order, and my crazy brain likes it a lot. “Tell Jeremy he can come to see you.”
And then he’s gone, and I relax against the cushion and close my eyes. The silent room and the tranquility in the air lull me to a half-sleeping state.
“Here’s your phone,” he says, dragging me back to consciousness—or disturbing my fragile sleep.
I try to move to a sitting position, fighting the relaxed state I’m in and the non-cooperation of my body, but his hand on my shoulder takes the fight away from me. His touch, like magic, sends waves of peace from that point through my body.
“Thank you.” But I’m not even sure if I say it out loud or only think it.
Just as I’m not sure if I imagine his hand caressing my hair…
I must have…