“Did you say dumpster diving?”
My entire body goes hot. Shit. I did not mean to say that out loud. “There, ah—there was this distribution center not too farfrom where we were living.” My voice sounds hollow, and I feel myself start to dissociate a little bit. It’s like floating above my body and listening to someone else tell this story. “They would throw out huge boxes of food that got returned for damage or stuff that was just barely expired. Most of it was like…I don’t know, mac and cheese, canned veggies, crackers…” My voice starts to shake. “Anyway, is it okay if we don’t talk about this right now?”
There’s a warm touch on my wrist, and I look down to see he’s pushed himself up next to me. “I’m sorry.”
Something in me tightens with anger. “I don’t want your pity?—”
“I’m sorry I brought it up in public,” he clarifies. “What you went through is shit, and I do feel bad, but I don’t pity you. Trust me, there’s nothing I hate more.”
I manage something like a smile and take a deep, cleansing breath, hoping to will away the dark cloud that settled between us. “Okay. So, back to a menu you can handle. If you could pick anything at all…”
He bites his lip to hide a grin, and suddenly, the mood is light again. “Carbonara.”
Laughing, I turn the cart, heading for the refrigerated section. “I know the perfect recipe that even you can handle.”
“You have a lot of faith in me,” he says.
I glance over my shoulder and meet his gaze. “Yeah. I do.”
TWENTY
LEO
I don’t pity North,but it’s hard not to be empathetic about his past. He opens up in little fits and bursts, but he shuts down just as quickly. I leave a thousand questions unasked because I know they’ll go unanswered.
I don’t want to feel entitled to what he went through, but there are pieces of him that are hidden, and I want to know who he is. All of him. Every moment that shaped him into the man he is today.
The drive back home is quiet, but the mood’s still comfortable, and he leans into me as we take a right into our community. At the corner, I can see the entrance to my street, and I suck in a sharp breath, making him roll the car to a stop.
“Do you want me to drive past it?” he asks.
It takes me a moment to decide, but I know right now, I’m not ready. I want to heal more. I want to be on my feet before I see the disaster that was left behind. I shake my head and swallow heavily. “No. Let’s go back to yours, please.”
North looks at me for a quick second, almost like he wants to say something, but in the end, he takes his foot off the brake and starts the journey to his side of the neighborhood.
Once we get inside, I busy myself with putting away the groceries that I can reach. I handle the lower cabinets and the fridge while he does all the cans in the pantry to the left of the stove. Neither one of us says anything, and I start to wonder if maybe I fucked up.
The quiet tension stretches into what feels like eternity. What if this is it? Maybe what we had is broken. But before I break the silence, North suddenly drops down to his knees in front of me and sets his hands on my thighs.
“Can I have a hug?”
His words are so soft-spoken, so vulnerable. Almost shattered in a way. He says them like he’s never asked for a hug before, and part of me is afraid that’s true.
It takes zero effort on my part to pull him into my arms and push his face into the crook of my neck. He melts against me, breathing in deeply, his fingers flexing against my back as he clings.
“Is this because of what you said at the store?” I ask.
He nods against my shoulder. “Mm. Sorry.”
“No. God, don’t apologize. I should have kept my mouth shut.”
North pulls back and sits on the floor, back to the cabinet, and he looks at me with heavy eyes. “You didn’t know. And I’ve had a lot of therapy. Probably not enough,” he adds with a small laugh, “but I’ve worked through a lot of it. I know that I had no control over my life when I was a kid and that my mom’s addiction wasn’t my fault.” His eyes lift and meet mine. “I know that I have zero reason to be ashamed about my past.”
“But it doesn’t stop the feeling, does it?”
“Not really, no.” He lets out a soft breath of air. “No one tells you how to navigate the trauma while also balancing the knowledge that her addiction was a disease and she couldn’thelp the things she did. My sisters have decided to just be pissed at her, and they hate what I do to take care of her.”
I want to reach for him, but I don’t think that’s what he wants right now.
