“I don’t agree with how you’re going about this,” he admits, and a rebuttal is on the tip of my tongue. “However, I appreciate you telling me, and I’m so bloody sorry for how I went about it. I should’ve just been direct and asked at home, but I’ve been crawling out of my skin trying to figure out what’s been going on with you, and I know it’s not your responsibility to make me comfortable, and?—”
He babbles on, and my eyes glaze over.
“You’re making my head hurt. Apology accepted and all that,” I say with a wave of my hand. “But if you ever follow me again or listen in on my conversations without my knowledge and consent, I’ll add guarana to your protein powder so you spiral into an anxious fit, toss your anti-anxiety meds, and replace your shampoo with hair-removal cream. Got it?”
He goes ghostly pale and nods his understanding. “Got it.”
“Good.”
A blissfully quiet minute passes between us, ruined by his apparent need to fill the silence.
“Adhira,” he murmurs.
“Hmm?”
He brushes his pinkie along the outside of my thigh—the gesture is comforting without being too much. “I’m sorry for the shit hand you’ve been dealt.”
I sit with his words, grief and pain I’ve barely allowed myself to acknowledge swelling in my chest. “I’m sorry too,” I whisper.
We sit in quiet rumination for a while longer.
“And now that I know…” He trails off, looking anywhere but at my face. “Will you let me be here for you?” His eyes swoop down, grasping me in their unrelenting hold. “Iwantto be here for you, Adhira.I need it.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. If nothing else, it would be a relief not to mask my emotions at home.
“Adhira, are you ready?” Nurse Jenna calls, holding the stark white door open, my attention snapping to her.
I stand, looking down at Elijah. I can’t promise him anything. I don’t even know when I’ll start to shut down, let alone promise to someone I barely know that I’ll trust and lean on him. But what I can do in this moment is invite him in,if only for a little while.
I flick my chin towards Jenna. “Come on. She’s waiting for us.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
I shutthe door behind me as we enter our flat, relieved to have cleared the air between us but terrified by what her admission means for her, and for any friendship we might have.
She knocks into me while balancing to untie her trainers, my hands shooting out to steady her.
Her eyes flit to mine, and I swear I see the corners of her lips lift into a grin, but it vanishes before I can be sure.
“Thanks,” she says, stepping out of my grasp. “I think I need to eat something, so my balance is a little off.” To anyone else, that would sound like one of the most natural things in the world for someone to say, but with Adhira, I know better. She’s letting me in, even if she might not know she’s doing it yet.
And hell, maybe shedoesknow, and that would make it even more spectacular.
“Go sit down, and I’ll make us dinner. Does soup sound good?” I ask, and instead of arguing, she agrees and has a seat at the kitchen island. “Mum used to get really uncomfortable sores in her mouth because of the acid reflux, but staying away from acidic foods remedied the issue. Have you noticed either?” I ask, peering into the fridge and taking stock of what we have.
“Both,” she admits, her voice void of emotion.
I make a mental note to avoid foods that might worsen her reflux and pull things from the cupboards and fridge, getting to work.
The skillet crackles as I toss in a handful of chopped vegetables. The scent of cumin rises with the steam, warm and sharp. From the other side of the kitchen island, Adhira rests her chin in her hand, her eyes closed as if she’s taking a nap. She’s wrapped in a hoodie two sizes too big, sleeves tugged over her hands, one leg tucked up on the stool beneath her.
She doesn’t say much—just occasionally reacts to something I’ve inadvertently mumbled to myself with a quiet huff of laughter or a raised eyebrow. Her phone is face down beside her, untouched. I glance over now and then, half expecting a question, a comment, something to fill the air between us. But she’s content in our silence, and for the time being, so am I.
She doesn't look bored or impatient. Just...there. With me. Not asking anything of the moment except to be in it.
And somehow, that feels like more than enough.
