Page 37 of All Her Broken Pieces

Fuck me. What is it about a shirtless man in a backwards ball cap? And why does it make me feral? The way the veins of his forearm pop along the corded muscles is sexy as fuck.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re all sweaty and shirtless when half of your body is in my freezer.”

“I run hot?” he suggests with a crooked smile, the hint of his dimple appearing. “You need a plumber. Want me to call one for you? I know a pretty good one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, my dad. I wouldn’t let him charge you, though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll call someone to deal with it eventually,” I say as he puts everything back in the freezer and moves the fridge back to its place.

The last thing I need is his father or any of his family in my apartment. What would they even think about me dating their son? Would they think I’m too old for him? That I’m his sugar mama or a cougar?

“I need to hit the shower, you mind?” Ethan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Help yourself,” I say, making a sweeping motion with my arm in the direction of my bedroom.

“Thanks. Let me know if you want that sponge bath after.” He winks at me as he passes.

____________

After a ten-minute standoff, I reluctantly agree to go for a walk around the block with Ethan. I was hoping to get a little time on my own. He’s incredibly sweet and respectful of my space, but I’m an introvert of the worst kind sometimes. My social battery is drained, and I need time to recharge.

It’s not that I was looking forward to this surgery, but the prospect of working remotely was appealing to me. Not having to go into the office and make small talk as I get my morning coffee in the break room? Sign me up.

But it was clear my pup had a bone he wouldn’t let go of, hence our circling the block, headed toward Mangia Bene. I usually frequent this restaurant once a week, yet going there with Ethan today feels different.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Several minutes pass as I ignore his question, thoughts swirling in my head like a snow globe that’s been given a good shake by a rowdy child.

“Why are you so curious what I’m thinking? Can’t I enjoy a walk in silence?” I finally snap. I catch myself. “Shit, that was mean. What I meant was, you’re really nice…” I trail off, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“But? It sounds like there’s a but.”

“But I don’t think this is going to work out. I appreciate your help the past two days.”

“It’s about that time, isn’t it?” He grabs my hand, threading his fingers through mine and anchoring me so I can’t let go despite my attempts to tug free.

“What are you talking about?”

“For you to run or push me away. At least a couple times a day you attempt some variation of this speech. While I understand that you’re a fiercely independent introvert, you just had a pretty significant operation and need someone to help you while you recover.”

“Becka gets back soon. I can call her to help.”

“What I can’t figure out is what set you off this time. I’m not pushing you for more. I didn’t ask about your bowel movements?—”

“Jesus.”

“You don’t seem particularly vulnerable right now, and it’s not the first time we’ve been out in public together.”

“Remember what happened last time we were around people? Nurse Maggie thought you were my son.”

Ethan stops on the sidewalk and tugs on our linked hands, pulling me back to him. For a fleeting moment, I hope that he’ll touch me, lean into me. Then I realize how close we are to the restaurant, and anxiety creeps in, making me worry that someone will see us. I’m too exposed right now, too raw. I don’t think I could hear one piece of negativity or criticism without feeling like I’ll collapse like a house of cards. So I opt for honesty.

“I feel like shit right now. It feels like someone has punched my insides out. Walking hurts. I still can’t get out of bed without your help or going extremely slow because of the pain. I can’t do any of my normal routines, and now I’m out in public in little makeup with someone who’s been mistaken for my child.”

He lets go of my hand and slides his hand up my arm, grabbing my shoulder to get my full attention. This feels less intimate than the hand-holding, and I’m grateful for the reprieve.

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