“The cook brings it. She knows what I like.”
“Another motherfucking cook!” His voice echoes around the space, and I cock my head.
“Why are you upset, butterfly? Does this offend you?”
He huffs and shuts the fridge door, turning to face me.
“No, of course not. I just feel a little out of my depth. This place is much more than I could ever imagine.”
I roll my lips between my teeth. “I know you’re not used to it, but could you get used to it?”
Ansel rubs the top of his arms anxiously. “It’s a lot of space, Cade.And honestly, we shouldn’t even be thinking about that. We barely know each other.”
That makes something inside my chest squeeze. “We already know each other. We just need to get to know each other more.”
I pull open a cupboard, grab a few boxes of crackers, and begin working to make him a snack plate; something his stomach can easily handle.
He eats from the plate silently, his eyes moving around the space, taking in each detail while he chews and swallows.
I watch him intently, and I catch his gaze a few times.
“You’re staring.”
“You’re impossible not to look at.”
He takes a sip of the water I handed him earlier and sighs. “I’d like to see the rest of the house. I’m sorry for my initial reaction, because this place really is beautiful. I was just… It’s a lot to process. When I said I’d show you mine, I mean it when I say it’s small and gross. There are literal mushrooms growing out of the walls.”
I don’t like the thought of my precious butterfly living in filth.
“You don’t need to live there. Not anymore.”
“We’re from two different worlds.”
“So what? It doesn’t matter.”
He looks suddenly sad, his hands moving up to his face to scrub at his eyes. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. Show me the rest of the house.”
I don’t think he believes the words he’s saying. It makes me want to tie him to a chair until he does. Instead, I smile warmly. “Let’s go this way. I’ll show you the guest rooms, the office, and the gym. Oh, and the theater I had put in last year.”
He’s quiet once more, letting me lead him through the hallways, telling him how I designed all of this, had it built from the ground up. I’m proud of it, of the place I call home. But in reality, it could all burn down, and I’d be happy with just Ansel in my arms. I don’t need much.
As we walk, I say, “I might have been raised with wealth, but I went without. Often, actually.”
Ansel’s feet falter. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I don’tneedthis to survive. It’s just a luxury, something I earned from the years of torment by my father. I fucking spend the money in my accounts because I bled for it.”
“You bled for it? The nightmare?”
I swallow around the thickness in my throat. “Yes. One of many. He was not a kind man, not to me or any of my brothers, but he was worse to us older ones.”
“Why?”
“To make us strong, unflappable. And because we were able to intervene to protect the others. That’s the danger of training your children to be weapons—one day they will grow up and turn on you.”
“Good,” Ansel says vehemently. “He deserved it.”
“He did. I wish someone could’ve done it for me, but at least we were able to do it for them.”
