Page 9
“No, they’re dead.”
My hand stills halfway to my mouth, and I slowly lower my taco back to my plate. “Pyrce, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I—”
“It’s okay.” He gives me a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It happened a few years ago.”
I want to say something else, but I don’t know what. I’m sorry suddenly feels painfully inadequate.
So for a little while, we eat in silence.
Eventually, I reach for something safer. “What made you choose this place to move to?”
He shrugs. “Something about it felt right. It’s a small town. Has what I need. I like the people here. Everyone is friendly. They look out for each other.”
“I’m glad you found that kind of peace,” I murmur.
His eyes capture mine. “Is that what you’re looking for?”
I shift in my chair. “Yeah. I want peace. I want to feel safe. I’m sick of jumping at shadows, of worrying. I, uh, grew up in a big city with parents who never gave me any attention. I could have been kidnapped, and I don’t think they would have bothered to report it.”
“Idiots,” Pyrce seethes, glaring at his taco.
“Well, they made me self-sufficient. You have to be when there’s no one else to look after you. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was five. I remember coming home to an empty house and making cereal. When there wasn’t food, I learned how to steal fruit or bread without getting caught so I had something to eat.”
Pyrce stares at me, his expression hard to read.
I force a hollow laugh past my tight throat. “Breaking into your house isn’t my first criminal offense.”
Pyrce seems like a good guy. I shouldn’t stay here and take advantage of his hospitality. I’ll finish eating and leave. Find somewhere else to stay tonight.
“Anyway, thanks for lunch. Let me clean up since you cooked.”
I gather our dishes and carry them to the sink, reaching for the faucet.
“Leave them. I can do them later.”
“No, you cooked, so I’ll clean. It’s the least I can do.”
Before he can argue, I turn on the water and start washing. I’m halfway through when Pyrce appears beside me with a tea towel. I nearly drop the plate in my hands when his arm brushes mine as he reaches for the one I just rinsed.
Apparently, we’re doing dishes together now.
Neither of us says anything as he dries each plate and puts it away almost as quickly as I wash it.
“Thank you, Pyrce. For everything,” I say when we’re done.
Pyrce’s eyes widen with panic as I turn to grab my backpack, and he darts in front of me to block the exit. “Whoa! What are you doing?”
“I should go,” I say, shouldering my pack.
“Elsie, we’ve talked about this. It’s not safe for you to leave.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Elsie.” Pyrce says my name like a warning.
I look away, guilt twisting in my gut. “I lied.”
He goes still.
