Rushing to the bathroom, I shut and lock the door before I sink to the floor and cry.
Chapter Five
Once I get a burn covering on my hand, I exit the bathroom, any evidence of my breakdown long gone thanks to the stash of makeup I keep in the drawer down here for that very reason. The mascara tracks have been erased, my eyeliner touched up. You’d only notice I’d been crying if you were to look into my eyes. Cold water only does so much to get rid of the puffiness and the redness, but it isn’t a miracle cure.
“Let me just get dinner all fixed up,” I offer a smile to Cal and Silas, who have moved from the kitchen and into the living room, but the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Silas has a face likethunder, stormy, enraged, and the grip he has on his glass looks tight enough to break it.
Cal doesn’t seem much better, and his cold eyes glare at me as I disappear back into the kitchen. I shouldn’t have let Silas get that close, Cal doesn’t like it when other men are near me, I’m not even allowed to speak with any of the guys he has employed here and since there are no women, I’m all alone unless I’m with Cal.
It’s strategic on his part, of course, but it took me almost a year to figure that out. The isolation was how it all started to begin with. I suppose it was easy for him; I had no family anymore, both my parents are dead and I have no siblings. I think there’s an aunt somewhere, but I haven’t spoken to her since I was a child. Any friends I did have when I met Cal stopped trying with me when I kept bailing on plans.
I wince at the mess in the sink, but I can handle that later. Pulling out another pot, I cut up some fresh vegetables and get them on to cook, and then carve up the chicken, placing it on a serving tray before I dish up the rest.
“I’m just serving,” I call through to the living room. “Why don’t you get seated?”
Maybe if I pretend all is normal, and well, it will be.
I hear them head through but catch Silas’s eye as he walks by. Those whiskey eyes drag down me, softening a touch, but he doesn’t stay.
That’s for the best. Acknowledging him from now on will only enrage Cal further, and truly, I just want a quiet life. A peaceful life.
I am in a constant state of fight or flight, my nervous system shot and my anxiety in full control.
I just want peace.
A new burn starts up behind my eyes, but I shove that down. I did not just fix my face for it to get messed up again minutes later. Plastering on a smile, I start to carry through the serving trays, placing them in the middle of the dining table. It’s so silent in the room you could hear a pin drop, and Silas still has that death grip on his glass while he stares toward Calvin. I wonder if he’s picturing his neck instead of the glass; God knows I’ve done that a time or two.
Retrieving the last of the food from the kitchen, I join the guys in the dining room, pulling out a chair next to Cal.
“No,” Cal snaps and lifts his knife, pointing the tip toward the chair beside Silas. “Sit there.”
My shoulders drop and I pick up my plate, moving down the table.
Silas’s eyes narrow, but whatever bait Cal is trying to put down, Silas isn’t biting. Instead, his glare turns to a cold grin, and slowly, he rises to his full height, getting to my chair before I can. He pulls it out for me and then takes my plate, arranging it on thetable.
“Here,” he gestures to the chair softly.
“Thank you,” I whisper, lowering.
Cal starts to angrily serve himself food, taking most of it to pile onto his plate. It’s a power play on his part. He leaves just enough for one more serving, meaning either me or Silas will have to go without.
Silas watches it all wordlessly, spinning his water glass around and around.
“Help yourself,” Cal smiles, seeming at ease, but I’ve read this man like a book. I know his tells, when he’s about to crack, and he’s one tap away from completely losing it.
All because Silas was helping me with a burn.
Silas stands and begins to dish up the rest of the food, scooping every last crumb from the dishes in the middle of the table, but then he shocks me breathless.
He picks up my empty plate and puts it in front of his seat before he places the full plate in front of me.
Cal practically vibrates in his chair at the head of the table.
“It’s okay,” I tell Silas, “Really. I’m not hungry.”
It didn’t matter that I hadn’t eaten all day and if I didn’t eat now, I wouldn’t eat at all, but I couldn’t let him go without either.
“Eat,” he tells me gently, “Please.”
