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 thismaking-a-housefeeling 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.
