Page 78 of Abundance of Obsession

“Can we go now?” I ask softly, standing face to face, to which he merely nods.

Eli reaches into his pocket, pulls out a few bills, and tosses them on the table to pay for the meal. Taking my hand in his, we brush past all the curious stares. He leads us with quick steps straight to the car.

Before I can reach for the door handle, Eli abruptly wraps his arms around my waist.

“Give me a moment, please. I need to calm down,” he whispers.

And I understand it perfectly. If he needs me right now for that to happen, then I’m here for him.

So, I turn in his arms, grab the back of his neck, and pull him close. His face lands at the base of my neck, right in my hair. He takes a deep breath and I feel it as he exhales. Goosebumps break out all over my body.

“This is exactly what I needed. You and your scent,” he says.

Another piece of the wall around my heart cracks.

And this time, I’m not trying to rebuild it.

Chapter 20

Eli

My emotions are all over the place.

Any heartbeat now, they’ll suffocate me.

Zoe and I are heading back to my apartment. It’s not our first time here, but we spend most of our time at her place. It doesn’t matter to me where I work; I’m not picky. A laptop is all I need.

Zoe, on the other hand, is addicted to her computers. I don’t see any reason to change that.

This time, though, I have to be at my place.

As soon as we cross the threshold, I unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt. It doesn’t help. The moment has come when I want to and should tell Zoe the truth.

I head to the living room and sit down on the couch. She follows me uncertainly, and those damn pangs of guilt come back again.

We were silent the whole way back. She’s definitely thinking about what she witnessed. I’m a coward. But I’m afraid to look her in the face. Pity is the last thing I want to see in her eyes, and after I clung to her like a lifeline, breathing in her peachy scent…

Well.

I’m such a weirdo.

“Are you afraid of me?” The words just slip out of my mouth as they pop into my head.

“No,” she says, and finally approaches with slow steps. “I’m not afraid.”

The sofa sags when she sits down next to me.

Until her warm hand lands on my knee, I don’t notice I’m fidgeting with it.

Damn it!

I rub my face, lean back on the couch, and only then look at her.

There’s no pity there, I realize. There’s concern, there’s a desire to help, but not that damn pity.

“That was my father.”

“I figured.”