A green plant by the window that somehow he manages to keep alive even though I can’t do that to save my life. A handful of art pieces in different styles, stacked up against a wall in the living room as if he couldn’t decide which one suited him. The ultra cozy gray blanket draped over a dark couch.
It’s a vision of someone tiptoeing back into being a person after being something else for so long.
It leaves me wondering who he was before the brain injury, if he spent any time here, if there wasanywarmth at all to that man.
He’s been a little off since the other night.
But I wouldn’t say killing someone made him into a different person. Just a slightly more paranoid and protective one.
He’s hardly let me out of his sight since we got here, and as much as it should feel overbearing, it somehow doesn’t. He’s been accommodating, nearly force-feeding me coffee every morning until he’s satisfied and I’m buzzing with energy.
And it’s been a nonstop movie marathon.
I’m unofficially grounded from the TV and my phone. Texts from old coworkers and a certain old boss almost sent Cormac off the deep end. Unless my mom has an emergency, there’s really no one I need to hear from.
It’s been enlightening to see just how alone I really am.
Kelly and Antoine have tried reaching out, but even they’re a little bit scared for me and of me. They might know Stella, but they didn’t realize Cormac was part of Mingle until the news broke, and now they’re scrambling, wondering how much I knew about all of it.
And I don’t have answers that would satisfy them. How can I explain that,yes, technically, the man they're all afraid of was stalking me and breaking into my home to watch me. Andyes, technically, we are closer than just strangers. But there’s no explanation for what we are.
Not even one that makes sense to me.
“Are you gonna be okay here by yourself tonight?” Cormac asks, sliding over a plate of turkey bacon and toast. “I don’t have to go.”
I let a small smile lift my lips, “Yes, you do. And yes, I will. We’ve been here for days and haven’t so much as gotten a knock on the door. I’m not worried about it.”
He sets another plate on the table before silently stalking around it to sit next to me, “Are you sure? Maybe I could have Stella come keep you company at least.”
I focus on my meal to keep from melting into his smothering too much. “I think you forget that I’mreallyused to being alone. I don’t mind being on my own.”
He nods, “Yeah, but it’s different. You’re not alone at home. You’re alone somewhere unfamiliar. You don’t even have your favorite vibrator here to keep you warm while I’m gone.”
I have to choke down my sip of coffee, nearly spitting it all over both of our breakfasts. “Cormac Fomori, did you go through my bedside table?”
He chuckles, taking a bite of his toast, “Of course, I did. I was looking for your gun and found something equally exciting.”
“Oh, my god,” I can’t help the mortification sending warmth into my face. “You pervert.”
Still laughing, he leans over and plants his lips on the corner of mine before continuing to eat. Just a quick little nothing peck, but the casual comfort in it sends me spiraling.
I don’t know how to deal with affection that I didn’t earn.
It’s being extended to me for no reason other than that Cormac wants me to have it, and as much as it thrills me, it equally terrifies me. It’s shining a glaring light on all the relationships I’ve had in the past, both romantic and otherwise.
“Eat, Brig,” he tears me out of my winding thoughts. “You’ll have plenty of time to worry later.”
“I’m not worrying.”
Turning me towards him, he uses his thumb to gently swipe between my eyebrows. “Your face definitely thinks you are.”
His playful demeanor reminds me a little more of the night we met, but there’s no denying he’s different now. Dark circles under his eyes, and instead of the pristinely styled hair he had then, he’s opted to keep it short and cropped, his widow's peak on full display.
And I can tell that he’s fighting to keep his darker tendencies at bay. He might have killed someone, but he hasn’t had reason to step all the way into who he used to be, thankfully. I’m not sure he could handle it now without the memories that made him who he was.
I don’t let my mind wander to that other part of him any longer, trying to enjoy the one in front of me in case we lose each other again.
“I’m not worrying,” I try again. “It’s more like… wondering.”
