He goes on. "But I’m here. I’ll always be here with you whenever I can. When you truly need me, I will come." Then I’m wrapped in big arms, inhaling his smoky wood scent.
Shadow curls around me in bed, rubbing my bruised skin, making me feel better. A low grumble that sounds like a kitty cat comes out of him. The vibration makes me feel calm, safe. Safe enough to sleep. Even though I know he’ll be gone in the morning—and soon I’ll have to face a new foster home.
Miguel picks me up at seven p.m. on the dot and, as promised, takes me to a cozy little place that smells like heaven. The walls are lined with kitschy wallpaper covered in chickens and cows—like someone tried to make the world feel safe with farm animals and gravy.
When they bring out a couple of metal buckets full of golden fried chicken, I break into a real smile without meaning to. Miguel catches it and shoots me a cheeky grin, like he’s won something.
He found me a bucket-sized food serving, after all.
Over hot food and cold soda, I listen to him ramble about his college courses. Somewhere between his rant about professors and his dreams of immigration law, I realize I’m not faking it. I actually enjoy being here.
When he drops me off, Miguel takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "I like your smile," he says softly, like it’s a secret. "I want another chance to see it."
I look away too quickly, scared he’ll see the flutter of uncertainty behind my ribs.
He makes it impossible to say no.
We go out to dinner several more times, and he always insists on paying even though he’s putting himself through college.
Every time he walks me to the door, my gut tightens like it’s waiting for impact. A kiss. A grab. A shift in his voice, telling me I owe him.
But Miguel never pushes; he only seeks out to hold my hands and squeezes it as if I’ve given him the biggest thrill by letting him. That knot in my gut loosens as my comfort around him grows.
Sleep comes easier. My appetite tiptoes back. Slowly but surely, I start feeling like someone who might not be breaking all the time. Helena occasionally shoots me a smug, knowing smile as if aware she’s responsible for my marked improvement.
Marie and Alice are suddenly interested in my life, always asking me about our dates, what I wore, and how I feel about their cousin. They wear me out with their attention, but Iappreciate how genuine they are. Helena usually calls them off before it gets too personal or uncomfortable.
After a night out with cheeseburgers and ice cream, Miguel walks me to my door, insisting he doesn’t want me to slip on the ice. Once I’ve unlocked the door, I turn—and he’s closer than usual. Not too close. But close enough that my breath skips.
"In case no one has told you lately, Evie, you are lovely," he says, looking down into my eyes.
No one hasevertold me that, actually.
Miguel steps in, his hand coming up to frame my face. He leans toward me slowly, giving me every opportunity to stop him.
My heart crams up into my throat as I realize what’s about to happen.
Closing my eyes just as his mouth finds mine, it’s a nice, closed-mouth kiss. And somehow, I miss it while it’s happening—too busy trying to figure out how I’m supposed to feel.
It only lasts a moment, but when he pulls back, he’s beaming at me again, a sparkle in his eye.
"Thank you for dinner again," I breathe, having forgotten to for the last couple of minutes. "Please, you have to let me pay next time."
He practically skips down the stairs. "Not on your life, Evie."
I can’t help the small smile that springs to my lips as I walk into a blistering hot apartment and flip on the living room light. I’m barely in before I see the mass of shadow in my darkened bedroom.
My pulse skyrockets as I freeze.
The Monster That Eats Your Heart
The way Shadow hangs there in the dim bedroom, it’s like I’ve been caught cheating.
Trying to steady my breath, I shut the door firmly and remind myself the monster has no such feelings for me. He’s the one who keeps abandoning me without warning or assurance he’ll be back.
Setting down my keys and shrugging off my jacket in the living room, I say, "I didn’t know if you’d come back."
He doesn’t respond at first. The silence builds like a palpable tension, pressing against my skin. I walk to the doorway and stop just shy of the threshold. I simply stare, waiting him out. Sweat breaks out over my entire body beneath the layers of clothing, the heat kicking out from the old fan on full blast.
