Page 60 of Shatter

I turn away before he can see my face.

* * *

Aesir's in the clubhouse kitchen on Thursday morning when I come down for coffee.

I stop dead in the doorway.

I haven't been alone in a room with him since the night Hakon carried me in.

I've seen him in the common room and the yard, but always with other people around, always across a distance.

He's leaning against the far counter with a mug in both hands, a thick gray haired man with a salt-and-pepper beard and reading glasses pushed up on his head.

He sees me and doesn't move.

He stays exactly where he is, on the far side of the big steel island in the middle of the kitchen, with the full width of it between us.

"Morning." He lifts his mug an inch. "Pot's fresh."

I make myself walk in.

The coffee maker's on the counter by the door, on my side of the island.

I pour a cup with my back half-turned to him, watching him in the reflection on the microwave door.

He doesn't come any closer.

"How's the arm?" His voice is deep and slow, a smoker's voice gone soft around the edges.

"Better." I wrap both hands around the mug. "Vail took the stitches out."

"She told me." He nods. "Said you didn't even flinch."

I don't know what to say to it, so I blow across the top of my coffee and say nothing.

He takes a slow sip from his mug.

"My wife's got a bakery over on Thomasville Road." He rolls the mug between his palms. "Zizi's Treats. You might've seen the sign. Pink awning."

I shake my head.

"She lost her morning girl two weeks ago. Kid went back to school." He sets his mug down on the counter. "Aziza's been doing the four a.m. bake by herself, and she's too damn stubborn to hire somebody off the internet. Says she wants somebody she knows."

My fingers tighten on the mug.

"She doesn't know me." I keep my eyes on my coffee.

"She knows about you." He shrugs. "Word gets around. She pays cash every Friday, and she doesn't ask questions she doesn't need the answers to."

I look at him across the steel island, at the careful way he's standing, his weight back on his heels and his hands wrapped around his mug where I can see them.

The first night, I screamed when he came at me.

I don't remember much from the night, but I remember the scream.

I remember him stopping dead and stepping back, handing me off to two women without a word.

He remembered, too.