Chapter 7 #3
“You fell,” he replies. “You hit your head. Traumatic brain injuries are nothing to mess with. Especially given your—” He stops. Frowns.
Right. My amnesia. Another cherry on top of the craptastic sundae of my life.
“It was just a little bump,” I insist. Touching the back of my head, I find a small sore spot just below the one I got in the alley. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“We don’t know that.” Nico grasps my arm and gently but firmly maneuvers me onto the bed. Once I’m seated, he perches on the edge of the mattress and tips my head forward. His fingers comb through my hair, searching out the new bruise.
And, crap.
It feels too good.
I’m reminded of all the times we’d watch movies together and I’d fall asleep on his shoulder, coming awake to the soothing sensation of his fingers running through my hair. You have such beautiful hair, he used to tell me. Like Snow White’s. But even prettier.
My nose prickles again.
I don’t want to remember those times.
I don’t want to remember how good things were.
And I really don’t want to remember how easy it was to fall in love with him.
He broke your heart, the voice of logic reminds. He thought you were a thief. You might have been in love with him, but he didn’t love you.
“Maybe I should call Knight,” Nico says. “He’s a trained medic. If you’re adamant about not seeing a doctor, he could take a look. See if there’s anything concerning.”
I pull my head away from his tempting fingers. “There’s nothing. It was just a bump. I’m fine.” Dryly, I add, “If I start hallucinating, I’ll let you know.”
Confusion creases his brow. “Hallucinations? Have you been hallucinating?”
“No. The doctor just said—nevermind. It’s not important. I’m fine. Embarrassed, but fine.”
“Embarrassed? Why?”
“I just—” My mouth clamps shut.
“Sofia.” Nico’s voice gentles. “If you’re in pain, or something’s bothering you, I need to know, or I can’t help.”
You didn’t care before, I want to retort.
But that would be childish and irrelevant and I’m really not up for getting into ancient history right now.
Will we need to talk about the whole being arrested unjustly for allegedly stealing from his family thing if I’m going to stay here?
Yes. Eventually. But now? When I’m feeling so vulnerable already? No thanks.
Deciding a vague version of the truth is the best response, I reply, “I heard a noise. And since you said you wouldn’t be home until the evening, I got worried. I thought… Well. I wasn’t sure who it was.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was going to. But I wanted to get the door shut. In case… Anyway, I was trying to close the door when you came in. And that’s how I fell. Stupid, really. But I’m fine.”
Nico stares at me. Then he sighs, and his gaze dips. His shoulders sag. “Shit. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have called ahead to let you know I was coming home. I didn’t think… But I should have realized.” His blue eyes meet mine, dark with remorse. “I’m sorry, Sofia. It’s my fault.”
“It’s not.”
“It is. Of course you’d be scared—”
“I wasn’t scared.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Okay, I was a little scared,” I amend. “But it’s your place. You can come back whenever you want. You don’t have to tell me about it.”
“I should have,” Nico insists. “It’s been a long time since I lived with anyone. So I’m used to just coming and going whenever. But of course you’d be… alarmed. That’s on me.”
“Why are you back?” I blurt. Then I immediately curse my curiosity. It’s none of my business why he’s back early.
Nico stands. “I was worried about leaving you alone so soon after your concussion. So I thought I’d work from home today instead.”
“Oh.”
Don’t feel grateful. Don’t soften towards him. He’s probably just worried you’re going to steal something, and the whole coming back to keep an eye on things is an excuse.
Except. He looks worried. Not about me stealing. But about me being hurt.
“Well, I’m here,” Nico says. Then he snorts. “Obviously I’m here. You have eyes.” He casts a quick glance around the bedroom. “Have you eaten yet?”
At the mention of food, my stomach rumbles. “No,” I admit. “Not yet.”
“Okay.” He pulls the blankets back and looks at me expectantly.
“Yes?” I ask.
He angles his chin at the mattress. “Lie down. I’ll get some ice for your elbow. And something for you to eat.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Soph.”
I wish he’d stop calling me that. It’s too familiar. Too intimate. Loaded with too many memories.
“What?” I reply tightly.
Nico crosses his stupidly big biceps across his chest. “I’m getting you food. And ice. And some pain pills. Don’t argue. I’m getting them, anyway.”
It’s right there, on the tip of my tongue, to insist I don’t need his help.
But to what benefit? What will it prove? Especially when I know darn well that Nico will go ahead and do it anyway, because he’s just as stubborn as me?
“Fine,” I agree with a sigh.
A flicker of a smile touches his lips. But he hides it immediately. Once I lean back against the pillows, he pulls the blanket up over me. “How about some toast with avocado? And scrambled eggs?”
The image of Nico cooking for me brings a lump to my throat. “Okay.”
One of my mom’s favorite sayings comes back to me. “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” she liked to remind me. “In school, in work, in life. Being nice pays off. Trust me.”
But it doesn’t always pay off, does it? I learned the hard way about that.
Still. I’m here. In Nico’s condo. I don’t have to like it, but if he’s offering a proverbial olive branch, I might as well take it.
So as Nico turns to leave the room, I say, “Nico?”
He looks back over his shoulder. “Is there anything else you need?”
I swallow hard. Then I take a steadying breath. “No. I’m fine. But… the toast, and the eggs, and the ice… Well, those would be nice. Thanks.”
He regards me for a silent moment. Then he flashes me a small smile. “You’re welcome, Sofia.”
As I watch him leave, tears threaten again.
I don’t want him to be nice.
I don’t want to be reminded of the boy I fell in love with.
I just want this all to be over, so I can go back to my regular life again.
My brain knows it’s best, going back to a life without Nico in it.
I just wish my stupid heart would agree.