“What are you looking for?” Mano asked as they browsed.
“T-shirts and maybe some shorts.”
A sales assistant approached. “Good evening. Can I help you?”
Ody explained what he needed while Mano stayed nearby. He held up a dark blue shirt. “This is a nice color.”
“Yeah. This one too,” Mano said, pointing at a red shirt. “What size are you?”
“Medium or large.”
Mano found the shirts in medium and handed them over. “Here. Go try them on.”
Ody headed to the fitting rooms. As Mano browsed, his phone buzzed.
Odysseus: Can you grab these in large?
Mano searched until he found the larger size.Which fitting room,he texted.
After Ody replied, Mano crossed the short hallway to the fitting rooms and pushed the curtain aside just enough to look in. Ody stood shirtless inside, his black jeans still on. Mano caught on a faint scar, a thin line of stitches just beneath Ody’s ribcage. His brows drew together before he could stop himself.
Ody noticed exactly where he was looking. He covered the scar with his hand and met Mano’s gaze. “Thanks,” he murmured, taking the shirts quickly and pulling the curtain shut.
Mano stayed there for a moment, frozen, a quiet curiosity stirring in his chest.
Chapter 22
The curtain slid open, and Ody stepped out holding the shirts. “I like these. I’m getting them. Now, off to the shorts,” he said.
Mano barely glanced at the clothes.
“This one or that one?” Ody asked, lifting two pairs.
“That one,” Mano replied, pointing to the right, his eyes steady on Ody’s.
Ody disappeared back inside the fitting room. When he came out, Mano’s gaze dipped to the spot beneath his ribs, then lifted again. “Are you getting it?”
Ody nodded and walked past him toward the register. After paying, they headed outside. “Perfect. I’m ready for Serifos now,” he said, grinning.
Mano barely reacted. “Want to stop anywhere else?” he asked.
“No, I’m good. Let’s go to the car.”
Once inside, Ody tossed the bag into the back seat and turned the key. “Seat belt,” he said when he noticed Mano wasn’t wearing it.
Mano didn’t move.
“Put on your seat belt.”
“How did it happen?” Mano turned to him.
Ody’s expression changed instantly. “What?” he asked, his eyes on the windshield.
“The stitches,” he said, studying him.
Ody’s gaze dropped to his lap. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
