“Hey.” A gentle hand settles on my shoulder, warm and solid.
I just barely swallow down the sob that threatens to escape, but I can’t stop the bone-deep shudder that ripples through me.
The hand slides across my back until Santino’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders. I resist the urge to lean into him, to take the comfort he’s offering. It’s not fair to him. This is my problem to deal with. He’s my guest. I should be helping him, not the other way around.
“Sorry,” I say again, hating how weak my voice is. “Sorry, I just, um… I’m okay. I’m fine.”
I die a little more with each word I utter. I’m not okay. I’m not fine. Something’s wrong with me and I don’t know how to fix it.
“Are you sure? Do you want me to call someone?”
“No!” The single word rips from my throat. I can’t let my friends know. Not Rhys. Not Sebastian. They’ll worry about me. They’ll feel bad and think it’s their fault. They already have enough going on. I don’t want to drag them away from their lives because I can’t manage my own shit. “No, sorry, you don’t need to do that. They’re busy. This is nothing.”
You’re nothing.
I wince at the verbal attack and I’m pretty sure Santino sees it. “It’s just something that happens sometimes.” I let out astrangled laugh that makes me sound manic. “It’ll pass. Don’t worry. I’m good.”
Santino’s brows draw together like he doesn’t believe me, but at least he doesn’t try to argue with me. “Do you want to go home?”
Home. Yes. Home. Where I can close my bedroom door. Where no one can see me. Where I can curl up in a ball until the ache goes away, until the darkness recedes, until the voice goes silent.
“Yeah, I think I’m just tired. That’s all.” I sound like I’m trying to convince myself.
Santino jumps up and offers me a hand. I hesitate before taking it. I shouldn’t need his help getting up. But his hand felt so nice when it was on my shoulder. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. But the ache in my chest hurts so much.
I slide my hand into his and when his fingers close around mine, it feels like a lifeline. A buoy. All I need to do is hang on and he’ll draw me in to safety.
He pulls me to my feet with a little too much force and I stumble into him. My chest presses against his, our clasped hands sandwiched between us. He steadies me with his other hand on my waist. Our faces are inches apart and he smells like cinnamon, warm and spicy. His lashes are dark, long and thick, framing deep brown eyes with golden specks that catch and reflect the sunlight. They’re beautiful.
It takes every last ounce of strength I possess to step away from Santino. He’s just being nice. He doesn’t need me mauling him. I’m a grown man. I should be able to stand and walk home by myself.
The loss of his body heat is immediate and profound. I miss him. I barely know him, but I miss him already. How is that even possible?
I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep myself from reaching for him, then clear my throat before I speak. Even then, my voice is thick and groggy. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re good.”
Filled with embarrassment, I turn down the path that will take us back to my building. Walking feels weird. Like my feet aren’t really my own. And yet somehow, they manage to take step after step that lead me closer to home. Navigating around the other pedestrians helps distract me from the tightness in my chest. It’s not quite so all-consuming when I have to move aside to let joggers pass, or when a dog on a leash comes over for a quick sniff, or when I need to speed walk around a group of loitering teenagers.
I can feel Santino beside me the entire way. Not quite touching, but close enough for us to brush up against each other every so often. He doesn’t try to talk to me, doesn’t tell me to slow down. He keeps up with the fast pace I’ve set, a steady presence by my side.
By the time we make it back, I feel silly. Ashamed. I can’t believe I freaked out in the middle of the fucking park. I can’t believe I needed Santino to comfort me, to keep me from spiraling completely out of control. What the fuck is wrong with me? What is this thing? Why is it happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?
The darkness that had retreated during the walk starts creeping back in. It’s heavy and thick, sticky like sludge, clinging to everything it comes into contact with. It fills up the big, empty cavern the ache has left in my chest, drowning me, suffocating me.
I can’t do this. I can’t be here. I can’t take it anymore.
I mumble some excuse about being tired and don’t bother to wait for Santino’s response. I beeline toward my room and shutthe door firmly behind me. No one can see me here. No one will know.
I crawl into bed, hugging a pillow to my chest as if it’ll relieve the pressure growing inside me, threatening to burst. It doesn’t help. I squeeze my eyes shut as they sting with unshed tears. I hate this. I hate this so much. I just want it to end.
CHAPTER
TEN
SANTINO
This feels wrong. I feel it in my gut so strongly, my stomach is actually unsettled. Hayden’s obviously going through some shit, except I think I’m the only one who knows. I thought these guys were all super tight, but no one else seems to be doing or saying anything to make sure Hayden’s okay.
