“Yes.”
“Can we just go back a little? What do you mean you made a copy of the key to my apartment?” he asks, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind completely.
“For emergencies,” I say with a shrug, because it’s obvious.
He opens his mouth, shuts it again, pinches the bridge of his nose. “In Russia, do they not teach you basic social norms? Likepersonal space? Or that making a copy of someone’s key when you barely know them is completely insane?”
“It was good that I did it. This was an emergency, and now I can take care of you.”
He groans under his breath and rubs at his eyebrows again, muttering something I don’t catch. I don’t care what he calls it. He can call it weird, insane, whatever word makes him feel safe. I know I’m right. If I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t be here, and he’d be alone. Hurt, with no one to help him. That thought makes my chest tight, and my jaw clench. He doesn’t understand yet, but he will.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“No … I cut up some vegetables for Clover earlier and ate a little of that.”
“Then it’s good I made a copy of that key.”
“Jesus Christ.” He drags a hand down his face. “I’m just going to ignore this for now, okay? Because I am really desperate and I do need help, and some company would be nice.”
“I’m going to order us food,” I say, my phone already in my hand while I’m pulling up nearby restaurants to check what delivers to this area.
We siton the bed with cartons of Chinese takeout between us. I went and got his laptop, set it up, and let him pick what to watch. He asked forHow I Met Your Mother. From what I’ve seen on his computer, it’s always that show.
“The entire show is just him oversharing to his kids about his love life?” I ask, popping a piece of chicken in my mouth.
Kelly scrunches his nose and looks over at me. “When you put it like that, yeah. But it’s a funny show.”
I hum and shove more food into my mouth.
I want to ask him to come closer, but the words won’t come out. I’ve spent my whole life pushing people away. Now I don’t know how to pull them in. The screen doesn’t hold my attention. I’m watching him, and he looks completely wrecked. We finish eating and another episode rolls.
I don’t buy the bike story.
Those green eyes are too dull, too sad. He usually has this light in them, even when he’s exhausted. Right now, all I see is pain buried underneath, sadness bleeding through no matter how hard he tries to hide it from me. He’s lying. I know what his lies look like.
Something happened, and he doesn’t want to tell me. I want to ask, but I can see how fragile he is right now. Pushing him will only make him retreat further. He’ll tell me when he’s ready, when he feels safe enough. I just have to be patient and show him that whatever it is, I’m not going anywhere.
“Is it okay if I take a quick shower?” he asks.
I nod. Get off the bed, move to his side, and hold out my hand. He stares at it for a second like he’s not sure he should trust it. Then lets me pull him up. The sound he makes when his feet hit the floor, that wheeze of pain, makes something violent twist in my chest.
I walk him to the bathroom, flick the light on, push the door open, and go straight to the shower to pull the curtain back and turn on the water. When I turn, he’s staring at the floor with his chin wobbling like he’s about to break completely.
My hands ache with the need to touch him. To pull him close and tell him it’s going to be okay. To be the kind of person who knows how to comfort someone without breaking them further. But I’m not. So, I just stand here, watching him almost fall apart, wishing I knew how to catch him.
“Thanks,” he says, voice so low I barely catch it.
“Do you need help getting in?”
“No. It’s fine. Thanks.”
I walk out to give him privacy.
I pause at his kitchen counter, eyeing that chipped blue mug sitting unwashed by his sink, the one he uses every morning. Would he notice if it disappeared? Of course. It’s obviously his go-to. But accidents happen. Mugs shatter, get lost.
Still dirty from this morning’s coffee. Mine.
Clover’s sitting on the floor watching me when I come into his room. I scoop her up and carry her to the bed, and I lie with her on my chest while I wait and listen to the water running.
