Page 34 of Captivated

Me:No, I’m not. But I’m also not falling for your games.

Nico:No games. I’m not playing any games when it comes to you. I never have been. I’m telling you I want you and I need you. It’s that simple.

The breath leaves me in a rush and I lean against the counter. He can’t just say shit like that.

I put my phone down and drain the gnocchi before it gets too mushy. I add the cherry tomatoes I already roasted in the oven, pesto, heavy cream, and spinach to the cooked blackened chicken bites in the pan, and heat it up before dumping the gnocchi in and combining.

Cooking has been a comfort for me this past year. When I’m feeling out of control, lonely, or stuck, I go to the kitchen and my focus is all on the task at hand.

But right now, with Nico texting me, he’s disrupting my focus. He has me picturing him sitting at the table, pouring us wine while I cook and try not to burn whatever it is I’m making because he just fucked my brains into a scramble.

Nico:I see I’ve said something you didn’t expect. Let it sink in, Cassandra, and then text me when I can come inside. I have wine.

What?

I turn off the stove and go to the front window and look outside.

Me: You’re not outside.

Nico:Not yet. I’ll be there in two minutes.

Me:Why are you texting and driving?

Nico:Concerned for my safety?

Me:No. Who said I’d let you in?

Nico:You will.

Me:No, I won’t.

Nico:I want to talk. That’s all.

Me:I don’t want to talk to you.

Nico:You already are.

Ugh!!

I toss my phone back on the counter and scoop out a portion of dinner onto two plates.

I run upstairs and knock on Sean’s door. He doesn’t answer, so I open the door a crack and see him sitting at the desk in the corner with his headphones on, playing video games. It reminds me of when he was younger and it was like pulling teeth to get him to stop playing and go outside for literally anything. I think he found solace in his games.

I would normally give him his privacy and he’ll just come downstairs when he’s hungry, but he needs to eat to gain his strength back.

“Sean.” I tap his shoulder and he jumps. “Sorry!” I laugh. “I came to say dinner is ready.”

“Oh, I’m starving.”

“Good. Come on.”

“Thanks for cooking, Cass,” Sean says, taking a seat at the table. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I’m cooking for myself anyway.” I shrug. “And you need your strength to heal.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Mmhmm,” I hum, pushing the food around my plate, avoiding eye contact. He’s only going to be fine if we can come up with another fifteen grand by the end of the week.

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