Chapter 9
Haden
“What are you doing?”
I watch him jump in surprise, and his scared scream sounds more like a baby’s cry than an adult one. It makes my lips curve up, but I push them down.
Don’t get involved, I chastise myself. He’s not your long-term problem. It’s just for a couple of days, and then you’ll be back to your usual life. Sort of. I push thoughts of Arianna away, because those are frightening thoughts.
I’ve been a little awkward since opening up last night…
more than I usually am anyway. That rule we applied early this morning doesn’t say anything about feeling like you cut through your own skin, muscles, and bones to expose the deepest part of yourself.
It doesn’t say how that feeling doesn’t go away the next day, and you can’t hide that part of you any longer.
I don’t believe we can ever go back to not knowing what we each went through.
Or ever forget how connected we were in that moment.
When his hand touched mine, it was as if I found an anchor, or a change of wind, that for a moment put a stop to the tornado my life had become since my parents threw me out, since that day I nearly died by their hand.
I ignore the feelings in my chest, and focus on the task at hand, scolding him for doing something he shouldn’t be doing. I don’t want to be affected by those beautiful, soul-deep eyes, and those lips I touched so briefly too long ago.
I shake my head to remove those memories that would lead to stupid decisions. One stupid decision, a long time ago, robbed me of my family, my sister, and a place to call home.
Having him here is making me weak, and inclined to desire things that could bring heartache. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.
“What are you doing?” I repeat when he ignores me and continues cleaning the table. It comes out harsher than I want, but my composure is fucked. I reach out to take the cloth from his hand when he groans as his upper body leans against the table to clean the side furthest away from him.
Stupid man.
“Hey,” he protests, and uses his hands to push himself upwards. “I was using that.”
“I saw that,” I say, glaring at him. “And you shouldn’t be. What you should be doing is resting.”
“I can’t sit here all day and do nothing. It drives me crazy.”
I look at him and understand what he’s referring to. Those thoughts that swarm inside the brain, mulling over and over and crowding it, until there’s no space for anything else and you believe you’re going crazy.
Sometimes I want to scream, but I’m aware that doesn’t help. How do I know? Because that first time, after that first betrayal, it was what I did for months. But no one was listening, and no one cared.
I’m still screaming inside my head at the injustice of it all. It hasn’t solved anything, and it hasn’t provided any help.
I’ve become better at hiding the feelings festering under the surface, though, the thoughts that once used to show on my face but are no longer there. People stay away when there’s nothing showing on your face, or when your body is a sign to prevent them from getting close. I prefer it this way.
A bitter snort leaves my lips. “You’re lucky I’m not charging you rent for being useless.”
His look is half surprised and half hurt.
Guilt fills me when he doesn’t say anything and just looks at me.
“I’m grateful for the roof over my head. And for you.”
I glance at him, fascinated by the mix of fragility and strength he’s shown me since I met him.
No one has ever been grateful for me. Not even Henry.
He gave me a place to stay, he gave me food, but he never knew how to give affection.
He was a stern man, raised in a gelid home, with a heart of gold unfortunately buried inside an iceberg.
What I’ve learnt, I learnt from him. We were more similar than I want to admit.
“Stop with the flattering, and sit the fuck down.”
“I am, I am. There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist.” His smile at his own joke illuminates the room.
Me and my fucking mouth. His smile is strained, but it doesn’t take anything away from its beauty. I soften the blow. “Don’t push yourself. Your body needs to recover, and your ribs need to recover. And you need to take care of that face that looks like it lost a fight with a hammer.”
His laugh fills the room, and it’s as crystalline and pure as water coming out of a wellspring.
I want more of it. I want to bottle it and unscrew the cap when I need to feel better.
I wince with him when he touches his face.
“Is it ugly?” His voice cracks on the last word.
“Are we talking about the bruise or your face?” My tone is as brusque as usual, mostly to cover the sensations that looking at his face bring out in me, but even I hear the subtle softness in it.
Another of those alluring laughs fill the room, and they make my ears tingle, and… maybe I should go back to work, because I’m liking this making-a-house feeling a bit too much.
Spending time with someone who’s going to disappear as soon as he’s better is just asking for trouble. Trouble I don’t need or want.
“Both?” His voice is hesitant, as if he truly believes he’s ugly.
“The bruise is ugly.” I want to stop at that, but my mouth runs on its own. “Your face is gorgeous.” I scold my face into nothing, no emotions, when his eyes fill with surprise and delight, making him even more beautiful than he normally is.
Jay is bad for me and my heart.
But he could be so good. Fucking brain, always swimming upstream and messing with my perfectly lonely life.
He doesn’t speak, but I don’t miss how he fights to stop the tears filling his eyes from falling down.
“Are you okay?” I ask when the silence stretches for too long. I don’t want to worry, but damn if he doesn’t arouse every protective instinct I have inside me.
He seems to unfreeze and then looks away, as if ashamed of whatever is happening inside him. “I’m fine.” But it’s easy to see he’s not, because he’s looking everywhere but me.
I don’t miss his hand reaching up to his face to wipe it dry.
If I were a better person, I would have done something for his misplaced low self-esteem, because he’s a good-looking man, but I’m not good for anyone. It’s better if I keep my mouth shut, and let our paths separate again.
“I just don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not. I’ll make you work when you’re better.” I want that pretty smile back in place.
“Okay,” he says, after a short, wet laugh that makes my heart bleed for him.
“Now, rest, while I take care of lunch.”
“I’ll be good.”
I keep my hands to myself when the need to caress his wild hair presents itself, and instead, I busy myself making a quick tuna sandwich.
“Here it is,” I say, placing the plate in front of him.
“Thank you.”
Ah, these damn thank yous of his. “You’re welcome.” Before I can walk away so I can make something for myself, but mostly to sever another link that’s forming between us, he talks again.
“When are you going to pick up your daughter?”
Damn, if that’s not a fucking cold shower.
“Tomorrow.” I move away, again fighting the need to scream the place down. “I need to go back to work.”
“Are you not having lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” I say, already walking away. “Leave everything on the table when you’re done. I’ll take care of it when I get back.” I open the connecting door that leads to the shop downstairs without looking back.
I’m glad I don’t have to work, because with this unbridled energy inside me, I’d probably punch someone when they complained about the pain, and that wouldn’t be good for the business.
I have stuff to do. Stuff I’ve put off since my sister died.
The drive to the shopping centre is full of curses and fuck yous to those idiots stopping me from reaching my destination. I’ll have to add road rage to the list of my failures. Taking the Tube would have been a better idea, if I didn’t have to buy a baby’s room and everything that goes with it.
Anyway, I’ve been running on empty since the day I picked up Jay.
A clever idea would have been leaving him with Jeremy, or I could have asked Kai to take care of him, and I definitely shouldn’t have offered him to stay longer to recover.
I should have continued with my life and pretended our encounter never happened.
Instead, when I think about him leaving and being hurt again, my insides tighten, and letting go seems impossible.
When I enter the store it’s like stepping onto a new planet. The walls are a light blue pastel with animal designs, and the shelves are full of tiny little clothes, bottles in hundreds of different shapes and colours, and some kind of machine called a “nasal aspirator.”
What the fuck is that?
I should tune it down with the fucks once Arianna is home.
I wander around and stop at the nappy section, and there are shelves full of different coloured bags.
She must need those. I remember seeing them at Halia’s place, and in movies when there were babies.
They have numbers on the package… 1, 2… do babies have sizes like adults do? They’re so bloody small anyway.
Bloody, another word to scratch from my vocabulary.
Also need to tune it down with the damns, and any other curse words I know, because her small ears shouldn’t be listening to those kind of words.
I need all the assistance I can get if I want to go home with usable things. A girl walks by me and I spot a tag. Hoping she’s a sales assistant, I clear my throat to get her attention. She smiles politely, and I return the smile, or at least I think I do, because my lips stretch too damn wide.
Three seconds ago, I was keen on asking for help, and now I’m hoping she won’t ask if I do, even though I need it. I desperately need help.
I turn around and spot a lady, whose trolley is organised by shape and colours, and I believe even by purpose. If any of those things has a purpose.