Page 4 of Broken Soul

He blows out a breath and looks down at his feet, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Is it possible that I make him nervous, too? I don’t believe it. I can’t. He just feels sorry for me, which is fair. I’m pretty pathetic right now. A charity case if ever there was one.

"I don't have… anything," I whisper, the reality of my situation sinking in for the first time. It's true. I ran out of money yesterday after filling up the gas tank. I had to choose food or gas and opted for more fuel for my vehicle to get me as far away from my mother and stepfather as possible. "I don't even have a plan." I push the mostly empty tray to the side and hold my head in my hands.

Everything is spinning. My mind, the room, the circumstances I find myself in, the nightmare of what I escaped… A tornado of emotion starts in my gut and sucks the air from my lungs as it destroys everything in its path.

“Hey,” the man says, much closer than I realized. He reaches out and curls his fingers around my hand, that simple touchbringing me back into the present moment. “I don’t know what’s going on in your mind, but I recognize turmoil when I see it.” I look up at him, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. “Take a deep breath with me, okay, sweetheart?”

I nod, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. I follow his motion, my choppy breathing slowly returning to normal. I don’t realize I’m crushing his hand in my grip until I calm down a bit.

“I have a spare room at my place. I can’t remember the last time anyone crashed there, if ever. The door locks from the inside and the bathroom is just across the hall.”

I gawk at him, my jaw dropping at his offer. I’m not sure if he’s pranking me or if he’s offering to be nice, knowing I’ll turn him down.

“Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I decline politely. He frowns.

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all, we don’t even know each other’s names. Do you make a habit of inviting strangers over to your house?”

“Never,” he says in all seriousness. “You’d be the first.” His gaze is so intense I have no choice but to believe him. “I’m Diesel,” he announces, shaking my hand that’s already all wrapped up in his. The gesture has me smiling ever so much, but I don’t want him to see that.

“Odette,” I whisper, locking eyes with him.

“Odette,” he repeats to himself. “You really are a Disney princess.”

My eyes widen at his words, but Diesel clears his throat and stands from where he is kneeling in front of me. I must not have heard him correctly. A Disney princess? Me?Yeah, right.

“We’re not strangers anymore,” he points out, lifting an eyebrow at me as if to say the next move is mine.

“Fine, acquaintances. That still doesn’t mean we should move in together.” I stand from where I was seated on the couch and cross my arms over my chest while giving Diesel a stern look.

“No one said anything about this being a permanent solution.” Diesel sounds like he’s almost growling, but that can’t be right. He seems to be struggling with something but I have no idea what. “We can take it day by day. Starting right now.”

“I appreciate your kindness and the meal and water,” I start, trying to think of a way to decline. “But I can’t accept your invitation to couch surf. It’s not you, it’s me,” I finish lamely.

Diesel shakes his head, though he has a grin on his handsome face. He's enjoying our back-and-forth. I can tell he knows he's going to win.

“First off, it’s not couch surfing if you have your own room. And secondly, where are you planning to spend the night tonight?” he asks, calling my bluff.

I nibble my bottom lip, trying to stall until I come up with a satisfactory answer. “Well, since my car isn’t going anywhere, I thought I’d stretch out in the backseat and figure out my life from there.”

“I can’t let you do that,” he says firmly.

“You can’tletme?” I repeat, emphasizing the word he messed up on. “I don’t need your permission to live my life,” I snap. “Sorry,” I immediately apologize. My response was disproportionate to what he said.

“It’s okay. I understand more than you know,” Diesel informs me. I wonder what he means by that. One look at his somber features tells me he sees the pain I’ve spent my whole life hiding.

The frustrating man is right about my lack of options. He knows he’s right, and what’s even more annoying is that he knowsIknow he’s right. I look around his office, noticing a stack of invoices I assume haven’t been sent out yet, along with a half-finished tax form for employee payroll. A plan forms, a real one this time.

“I’ll stay with you under one condition,” I inform him.

“Anything,” he doesn’t hesitate to reply.

“I want to help out around here. Some light organizing, completing unfinished tasks, that kind of stuff. You can show me how to work the front desk, too.” Diesel opens his mouth, I’m guessing to protest, but I hold up my hand to silence him. “End of discussion. My new life, my new rules.”

The man grins and holds out his hand for me to shake. “Yes, ma’am. You drive a hard bargain and I respect that.”

I don’t think anyone has ever said they respect me before. And to hear it for the first time from this Greek god of a man? Yeah, I’ll admit to some butterflies in my tummy.

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