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“Nobody.”
“Somebody.”
“I was robbed, all right?”
“You were? Of what?”
His scoff catches me off guard.
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant. I don’t have anything worth stealing.”
“No…” Yes. That is what I meant, but hearing it back sounds way worse than I intended. Unlike earlier in the pool, I’m not trying to offend him.
“Sorry.”
“Forgiven.”
It’s so short, so simple. So believable. He does forgive me…this time. The other times I’ve insulted him, the jury’s still out.
Even I don’t think I deserve forgiveness for all my transgressions against him. Some have been warranted, while others have not.
Pinching his shirt, I ask, “Can you take this off or do you need help?”
Khaos doesn’t answer right away, then says, “I could use a hand.”
I set the rag aside, and without overthinking it, I lift the fabric, exposing his torso.
I gasp at the sight. To be honest, Khaos’s abs are breathtaking all on their own. His entire physique looks like it was chiseled by a mason. Over that handiwork are bruises, and not just the old ones I saw before. There are new ones, some that seem to be forming before my eyes.
After getting his shirt off, I reach out and stroke the biggest bruise, the one he was cradling in the hallway.
His sharp inhale has me glancing up at him, his eyes already on mine.
“Did I hurt you?” I whisper.
“No.”
As the moment stretches, our proximity shrinks. At least that’s how it feels.
I clear my throat before moving on to some of the others. “What caused these?”
“I told you.”
“These aren’t just from tonight.”
All he does is shrug.
“Khaos? Is someone hurting you?”
This laugh is followed by another wince.
“Don’t laugh,” I scold him.
“Don’t make me.”
“By asking if you’re being—”
