“Is there anything else you need before we head out to your celebration dinner?”
“You're coming too?” he asks, doing a pitiful job of hiding his excitement.
It makes me feel good. Wanted.
“Elise would drag me there whether I wanted to go or not. Better not to fight her.” My lips twitch.
“Well then, in that case…” He holds his arms open wide. “The only other thing I need is a hug.”
My stomach does a little flip.
“I suppose it would be wrong of me to deny you this request, seeing as youdidhelp my favourite rugby team win their final match of the season.”
His smile threatens to blind me as he bends down to wrap me in his embrace, tugging me to my feet, and I allow myself to surrender to his affection—this moment far less intense than the one we’d just shared.
I don't know what it is about him specifically, but every day I spend in his presence makes me feel more like myself. Even on the bad days. And it's a feeling I so deeply crave in this world of cruelty and unknowns.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
It’s been almosttwo whole weeks since I last had chemo, which means when I woke up this morning, I didn’t roll over and vomit or look like death incarnate. Isleptlast night, which feels like a small miracle considering my newest worry isn’t the side effects of treatment, but rather, the reality that tomorrow’s treatment might not be my last.
I finish getting ready, slipping into black leggings and a pair of trainers, and I have zero shame about sliding Elijah’s jumper over my head. We may not really be sleeping together, but his clothes are comfortable, and if he didn’t want me to wear them, he wouldn’t be leaving them neatly folded on top of the clean clothes inmylaundry basket each week.
And with him, I feel content to wear his jumpers without judgment because I know this isn’t his caveman way of claimingme. He’s a good friend, and the quiet peace he brings me is a comfort I never knew I was so desperate for.
I exit my room early, finding Elijah already in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of those teeny-tiny shorts the rugby players wear. His broad back is facing me as he busies himself, grabbing plates and utensils. My mouth might even water at the sight of him if I were capable of such a reaction.
Good thing I’m not. That would be embarrassing. How exactly is it that Chelsea and Letty live the way they do? Their every emotion written clear as day across their faces. It must be exhausting.
“Are you planning to join me for breakfast, or are you content to continue staring at my arse?” Elijah asks, not bothering to turn to face me with the cocky smirk I so rarely catch a glimpse of.
“Give me just another minute or two,” I snark.
He spins around, eyes narrowing and cheeks bright pink with a pretty blush that tells me just how much I affect him. On very few occasions, Elijah tries to play it cool, but mostly, he’s the softest teddy bear of a man, and his facade is quick to crumble.
“Adhira, come eat before I’m forced to do something about what you’ve just said,” he whines, running a trembling hand through his hair.
This is one of those occasions where I wish Elise were around because I’d be able to ask her what the hell he means. I have a feeling he’s alluding to something, and it leaves me unsettled that it went over my head.
I pout, pulling my chair out at the island and taking a seat as he places a plate in front of me. The bright-yellow plate has four divided sections, each with a different food group painted beneath the scrambled cheesy eggs, a piece of nearly burnt toast—just how I like it—berries, and sautéed spinach.
“Elijah, did someone rummage through our cabinets and steal our plates?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
He smirks, taking his seat beside me. “I saw these plates online while buying a few things for the girls the other night and thought they’d be an easy way to keep your food separated.”
My chest warms and my heart contracts. Damn him and his beautiful, thoughtful mind.
“Thank you,” I croak, shoving a piece of toast in my mouth to keep the questions and unnecessary comments buried inside.
He watches me chew, his light eyes twinkling under the kitchen lights, lips quirking in a small smile before he hums his satisfaction and digs into his meal.
“You have lab work today, right?” he asks when we’re halfway finished eating.
“Yeah, I’m leaving soon to head over there if you wanna come. We can make a day of it and stop at that indie bookstore across the street from the treatment centre.” Tomorrow is either going to be a massive success or the failure of a lifetime, and I’m not sure I’m truly prepared for either.
“Iwantto go with you,” he stresses, his eyes never leaving mine. It leaves me unsettled. I break eye contact, looking over his shoulder before returning to his mouth.What a mistake that is.“But I need to get back to my routine and recentre myself, or I won’t be any good for anyone. Any chance you can wait to go after my workout?”
