Another nod.
“And preferences. What do you hate? I don’t want to make you something you won’t eat. Or, that you’ll eat to make me happy.” A bitter note laces his voice.
I tip my head to the side. This is a man speaking from experience. “Eggs.”
“Yes or no?”
“No.”
“Meat?”
“Chicken only. Please,” I add, my volume faint and thready at best.
A large hand presses to my lower back. “You’re doing great, Adora. Will you help me?”
His touch is warm and steady and safe. A smile spreads over my face, and I don’t need to nod before he passes cups into my hands.
For the first time in months, I feel useful.
My teacup sits empty between my hands. I get the impression that I need to do a little more work to earn another refill. Hendrick shifts his chair to face me head on. I twist, shielding my body and pull my hair out of its bun from my shower lastnight. Some of the strands are still damp, and they coil loosely to my waist.
His fingers twitch on the table top, and he grabs for his phone, opening the screen to a notes app. “Alright, love. I need to know everything about your little problem.”
The corner of my mouth flickers.My little problemshot him last night after my last performance. He still hasn't seen a doctor, and he was stitched up the night before by a friend in the back of my car. My dress was ruined and I thought that someone else died because of me. The memory of the color splash at the sound still assaults my senses.
“Adora.” Hendrick’s hand covers mine on the table. “I’m sorry, love. I know it’s hard. But I need you here, with me.”
My gaze flickers up to meet his. There’s a question there, but also intent. He’ll find out who did this, and they won’t go far after that. “I understand.”
“Good.” He sits back, retracting his touch.
I want to laugh. The stupid sheet with its stupid rules was Athena’s idea. It’s become something of a god-level diva response to everything over the years, a standard response to send out to everyone and everything.
Not one of those rules were ever mine. They were created, just like Adora was created. A cover for a personality who isn’t real. But this is, and I don't understand what I’ve done to hurt someone. Hendrick will find out, though and that does matter. So I’ll help him. And then I’ll go back into hiding behind the fake persona that has become my own. Replacing the person as before.
Hiding her.
“Will you tell me?” Hendrick asks, softening his voice. “Who, Adora?”
I stare at him helplessly. “This is no one." I won’t last, not if he asks stupid questions like this.
Hendrick frowns. “A jilted best friend, an old agent? What about the last boyfriend or five that you dated? If it’s easier, write it down. But I’m better if you tell me everything and I'll remember. It’s… my skill. Like you and playing your instrument."
The mention of my absent harp slices through me. I glance toward the door at the opposite end of the house, but it remains closed and locked. No such joy there, not yet.
“Soon, love,” Hendrick soothes me. “Who else?”
I shake my head. “There’s no one.”
“Anyone who you’ve fought with? Anyone you've broken up with?”
I shake my head again and again as he keeps talking. My hands rise, cupping my eyes. “Noone!” I whisper-shout, my voice straining already. My breath comes in heavy pants as I push my chair back. Elbows plant on my knees as I lock my fingers through my hair, letting it swing over my face, hiding. From him, from the world.
“Adora,” he murmurs. Warmth hovers near my thighs, but he doesn't touch me, thankfully, or else I might erupt on him. “I’m sorry. I pushed you.”Already.
I shake my head, my exhaustion settling soul deep. “Big girl,” I mumble. “Should—” I sigh.
“N, you shouldn’t.” Hendrick hesitates a moment, muttering something under his breath. “Would you like a hug?” he asks. A question that he doesn't voice lilts his tone.
