He sets the frame back down, carefully. Like it might break if he lets go too fast.
“OD’d. Heroin.”
“Oh, Hayden…” My chest caves. “I’m so sorry.”
His shoulders curl inwards as if he’s still carrying the weight of his grief. “I like to remember her like this before she got hooked on the drugs.”
His eyes cloud over as if he knew his sister’s fate for years and couldn’t stop it. Just like I can’t help Mum.
Maybe that's what turns a man into wrath.
He clears his throat. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to dump that on you.”
“No,” I breathe out a soft sigh. “Thank you for telling me.”
A beat passes between us, quiet and full of unspoken words.
“Is that why you agreed to help me?” I ask.
He nods once. “It’s why Oak has kept you away from the club. He said you had a talent and that he had hopes of you making it out of this small town.”
My chest floods with warmth. “You always looked out for us, didn’t you?”
His jaw flexes. “Still am.”
I scrape the last swirl of spaghetti onto my fork and swallow it down, already feeling a little more human.
Hayden watches me the whole time. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t need to. His presence alone feels like a shield.
I glance at the empty plate, then back up at him. “I’ll get this washed up and clean any other pots you have.”
His brow lifts. “You don’t need to.”
“I don’t mind,” I blurt. “I need to repay you for the food.”
He shakes his head, pushing off the counter. “You’re not here to work. You’re here to rest. I’ve got it.”
“But—”
“Faith.” His voice is soft, but firm. “You don’t need to earn a place here.”
The words hit harder than I expect. No one’s ever said that to me before.
I nod, unsure how to respond, and let him take the plate from in front of me. He rinses it in the sink without another word, like it’s no big deal.
But to me, it’s everything.
“You can take the bed,” he says, pointing to the other side of the flat.
“But… where will you sleep?”
He gestures to the battered two-seater couch near the window.
“That?” I raise a brow. “You’ll fit on that?”
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “I’ve slept in worse places.”
I don’t doubt it, but the thought of him crammed on that tiny couch while I stretch out in his bed makes my stomach twist “We could share…”
