Page 31 of Fractured

Today, he had on a pair of faded jeans and a polo shirt, not unlike what he’d had on the other day. Except then, he’d been a little dressier and sans the jeans. The shirt stretched tight over his chest, and his biceps bulged where he still had his arms crossed. I could appreciate his sex appeal, even as detached as I was.

“Lilith?”

I jerked my gaze back up to his eyes. His whole body shook as he tried to hold in his laughter. Wonderful, detached didn’t mean anything when he caught me gawking at his body.

“Sorry.” I put the car in reverse and navigated our way out of the complex, feeling at least okay enough to make it home.

“No apologies needed. It’s nice to know that first door never shut on me.”

The drive to my house was quiet, which was mostly my fault because I was horrible company in my current state. But Saint had asked for this, and I was selfish enough to accept his offer.

He followed close on my heels with the bags as I walked up to my front door. I glanced at the chair where Atticus had sat, the shared morning now seeming years away. Inside, I headed straight for the kitchen and leaned against the fridge as he unloaded the bags. Frozen lasagna, frozen garlic bread, a chilled bottle of red Moscato, and then a huge bottle of bubble bath.

“I didn’t forget, and you do need to treat yourself every now and then. Where’s your bathroom?” Saint held up the bubble bath and looked down the hallway.

“The room on the right is my bedroom, and there’s a master bath off of it,” I answered automatically, but he couldn’t really mean to run me a bath?

“Perfect.” Then he was gone. I followed behind at a much slower pace. And sure enough, in the bathroom, he already had the water running and was pouring in a small amount of the liquid. “I’m going to start the lasagna and put the Moscato in the fridge, while you take a bath. Then when you get out, we’ll eat, lay down somewhere, either your bed or couch, and watch a movie. You’ll feel like a different person in a few hours.”

I was speechless as he moved to stand directly in front of me. He was larger than life standing in my bathroom, looking at me as if he actually cared. His eyebrows were dark slashes over his eyes, and his full lips were pursed as he simply observed me. Mere inches separated us, and now I could think of only one word.

“Why?”

“Because sometimes, we all need someone to take care of us.” He grazed the line of my jaw with his fingers, then shut the door quietly as he left me alone with the sweet lavender vanilla perfume quickly filling the room. An identical bottle sat on the ledge connecting the bathtub to the shower, but if he hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

Disrobing and climbing in, I moaned as the hot water lapped over my body. This was the first time anyone had ever ran a bath for me, and something about the small act of kindness made it special.

Time passed so quickly, and before I even realized it, the water was cold and the bubbles were mostly gone. Washing quickly, I let the water out and went to my dresser, putting on one of my more comfortable and conservative pajama sets.

Little sounds were coming through my door as Saint moved around the kitchen. Eager to join him, I straightened up my room, not that he’d care since he’d already walked through it, and then joined him in the main part of the house.

The lasagna sat cooling on the counter, and he was searching the cabinets. He looked good here, at ease in a way I never could be in his house. And now I had the sudden desire to makes excuses so he’d continue to come back.

“Plates?” I asked.

“Yep, they must be in this cabinet, because they weren’t in any of the others.” He grinned over his shoulder as he opened the last cabinet and pulled down two dinner plates. Little paper mâché butterflies took flight in my stomach, but I still couldn’t smile back. I felt broken in this moment.

After setting them on the counter, he spun back to the oven and pulled the garlic bread out. The whole dinner smelled delicious, pulling a rumble from my stomach.

“What can I do to help?” I fisted the sides of my big sleep shirt, trying not to make this weird. I shouldn’t ask to help, it was my kitchen, I should just be helping.

“Literally nothing. It’s all done.” Sure enough, there on the counter sat two plates with lasagna and bread, and two glasses of Moscato. A comment about drinking so early in the day was on the tip of my tongue, but I ignored it.

I picked up a plate and glass, stopping to pull out a fork for each of us as I left the kitchen to sit at the small dining room table. He took the seat next to me, but waited until I put the first bite in my mouth before digging in.

All of this was very surreal. This wasn’t a one-night stand, and he wasn’t a friend. Not yet. But he wanted to take care of me, and maybe that’s why it was so strange. Ambrose wanted to date me, so I at least understood those interactions. Actually, that had been new territory too.

Why was I so out of sorts now?

“Want to tell me about what had you so upset?” he asked softly.

I shook my head.

“Okay, then. What about you. How long have you lived here?”

“In this place? Three years.” I cut my lasagna up, moving it around more than eating it.

“And what about your family, do they still live here too?”

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