Axel got up from the table and stalked to the glass doors overlooking the city. His shoulders were rigid, and the muscles in his neck were so taut the tendons protruded. I considered giving him his space. But I didn’t. Part of me wanted to wrap him up in my arms and tell him it would be okay. But I didn’t dare do that either. Instead, I chose my words carefully. If I opened up about myself, it might take the heat off him.
Coming to stand beside him, I looked at the view. “That’s why I don’t work with kids. I’ve seen too many things, and it kills me that I can’t save them.” My hands began to shake as reminders invaded the space between us, so I put them in my pockets. “There are nights the memories haunt me in my dreams, and if I’m lucky, I’ll only wake up in a cold sweat. The screaming isn’t conducive to living with a roommate. People don’t like that for some reason. That’s why I focus on the adults. My empathy will get the best of me.”
Before I realized it, my left hand rubbed at the phantom pain in my jaw that returned every time I thought about it. My fingers automatically went to the elastic band I wore around my right wrist. I habitually pulled at it, hoping the pain would stop my thoughts. It didn’t take long for it to catch Axel’s attention, causing him to look my way. His personal hell morphed into something else.
“That’s not a weakness,” Axel whispered. “It’s self-preservation.”
Lifting a shoulder, I took a deep breath and continued to pull and pop at the elastic. The memory would resurface in my dreams now that I’d brought it up.
Axel turned to face me. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist. The warmth of his hands eased the pain from the band snapping against it. We were standing too close for comfort, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. “Who hurt you, Luca?”
Shaking my head, I tried to smile. A lump formed in my throat, threatening to choke me. “No one. I’m fine.”
His eyes hardened. “I know a lie when I hear it. My life is based on them. So… I’ll ask again. Who. Hurt. You?”
His tone sent a chill down my spine. I never wanted to be the one to cross him. “It was a long time ago.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I asked. Stop deflecting and tell me.”
There was no use hiding it from him. If I wanted him to trust me, it went both ways. “I was twelve. I’d eaten the last of the cereal. My foster dad went to get some, and…” I swallowed, then breathed heavily. “Broke my jaw. If I couldn’t eat, there would always be cereal.”
Shifting my gaze to the floor, he pulled me into his arms. “Name,” he growled, gritting his teeth together. “Give me his mother-fucking name.”
I shook my head, trying to fight back the emotions. “He’s dead. Three years ago.”At least to me.
“He better fucking be.”
Pulling away, I went back to the kitchen to collect the plates and little white boxes of unfinished food. I needed something to do. Axel followed me, never leaving my side. “I’ll do this,” he said quietly.
“You bought dinner. The least I can do is clean up.”
The heat and fury radiated off of him. The electric current between us intensified. It was a bond of sorts. Two lonely souls finding one another, creating an unlikely friendship. “You’re not doing this alone. I’ll help.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, and it would be really easy to misconstrue his words. But I was grateful he was here. His looming presence was comforting. “Okay. I won’t argue with you.”
“For once,” he muttered. There was a faint smile on his face, lightening the mood.
He took care of the plates and silverware, all the while watching me like a hawk as I collected all the packets of sauces. Placing them back in the bag, I rolled it up and set it to the side.
“You can just throw them away, unless you want them,” he said.
“There’s no need to buy the bottles when you can use these.” If I wasn’t careful, I’d tell him how easy it was to mix a couple of packets with hot water to make soup. “It’s better for the environment.”
Something changed when he looked at me. “That’s different. Take them.” He picked up the bags of leftover containers. “You’re taking these too.”
That didn’t seem right. “Won’t you eat it tomorrow?”
He shook his head. “I don’t eat leftovers.”
I looked at the four bags of food that we’d barely made a dent in. “Why did you order the whole menu?”
He shrugged. “It’s easier. I didn’t know what you liked, so if I ordered it all, you had to like something in the bag.”
Easier.I shook my head, wondering what it must be like to have anything you wanted. That was a feeling I would never know. “You’re crazy.”
He smirked. “You like me anyway.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved him in the shoulder. “Unfortunately.”
