“Fuck off, judgy,” I groan. “All the food I buy goes there. I was going to shop yesterday, but, uh…I got distracted.”
He reaches out and lays a tender hand over the back of mine. “It’s fine. I don’t need much.”
“You need more than you let yourself have.” Pulling away, I set my mug on the counter. “I have time to shop. You want to come with or stay here?”
He pulls a face. “Would it complicate things if I tagged along? I feel like I’m going to lose it if I can’t get out, but I don’t want to make things harder on you.”
My entire body goes soft for him, and I lean down, bracing myself on his shoulder with one hand and lifting his chin with the other. I’ve never been bold like this. Not ever. But with him, it feels so natural.
My lips meet his in a soft, quiet kiss, and then I knock my forehead against his. “I don’t care if it’s complicated. If you want to get out, I’m getting you out.”
He says nothing for a long moment, even after I pull back. I start to feel a little self-conscious, so I grab the mug and walk it to the sink before he clears his throat and speaks.
“I always wondered what it would be like if you were nice to me. I watched you be so kind to other people, and I know I didn’t exactly deserve it?—”
“Stop.” The word tumbles from my lips, and I turn back to face him. “We’re doing a clean slate, okay? We were fools in the past, but we’re done with that now. Agreed?”
His eyes are bright as they meet mine, and a bit of tension melts away from his shoulders. “Agreed.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but for the moment, I’m willing to run on hope.
Going to the store isn’t as complicated as Leo was afraid of. His pain seems a lot less today, and he doesn’t wince when he slides his feet into the footrests. He navigates with the chair with some ease as I grab a cart, and we begin to peruse the aisles.
“What do you like?” I ask as I pause in the aisle to grab a packet of gnocchi and jars of tomato sauce.
Leo shrugs. “I’m easy. Just make whatever you like.”
I turn and give him a look. “I’m cooking for you, remember.”
He pulls a face. “Yeah, but?—”
“This isn’t prison, Leo. You’re not going to just eat whatever you’re being served. Let me spoil you a little.”
His cheeks go ruddy, and he rolls to a stop. “I get that. I’m not trying to be a martyr or whatever. But when it’s something I can’t contribute to, it feels wrong to be picky.”
“I don’t mind picky, but also, if you want to learn how to cook, I can teach you.”
He grimaces. “I might be a hopeless case. You tasted that pasta I tried to make you.”
It takes every ounce of my self-control not to make a face. “It was fine.”
“Okay, what we’re not going to do here is lie,” he scolds. Something about that tone does it for me. I shiver and fight the urge to bite my lip. “I know it was trash, and you ate it to be nice.”
“I’ve had worse?” I try.
His eyes narrow in a glare.
“Fine, it was horrible, and I choked it down because I didn’t want you to feel bad. But if you want to learn to cook, Icanteach you.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then bursts into laughter. “That’s sweet, but I don’t want you beating yourself up when I’m nothing but a giant failure.”
Rolling my eyes, I push the cart past him and jerk my head for him to follow. “No one is hopeless. And the first time you make something that tastes good, it’ll give you the confidence to keep going. I had to learn the hard way. I was feeding three young girls on a budget of five bucks a month, whatever my mom didn’t sell of our food stamps, and dumpster diving behind the grocery store. If I can make that work, you can learn to cook some pasta.”
It takes me too long to realize that it’s quiet behind me. I turn and find him several paces away, staring. He catches up a moment later, then clears his throat as I add some coconut cream to the cart.
“North?”
“Mm?”
