Page 6 of Fragile Hearts

I turn off the heat and push the pan to the back of the stove before turning to face her. “Sloane, it’s totally okay. Just make yourself at home, eat and drink whatever, I really don’t mind.”

“I know,” she says, picking at the label on her beer bottle. “That’s the problem.”

I let out another laugh. “What, it’s a problem when a friend wants to help another friend?” I ask her.

Now it’s Sloane shrugging as she mumbles, “I don’t know, maybe.”

I reach out, sliding my fingers under her chin and tipping her face up. Her blue eyes lock with mine, and I can see so many emotions swirling inside them. Fear, confusion, hesitancy, maybe a little bit of anger even.

“Why?” I ask softly.

She licks her lips, drawing my attention to her mouth. A mouth I have fantasized about kissing an endless number of times. “Because I’m never going to be able to pay you back,” she says, her words so quiet I barely hear them.

I smile, stepping closer as my hand now slides to the side of her neck. Sloane blinks up at me, and I can feel the hard beat of her pulse beneath my palm. “I don’t want you to pay me back.”

She nods, her gaze dropping as she steps away, my hand now falling to my side. Just as she’s about to walk away, though, I grab her hand, stopping her.

“Sloane,” I say quietly, waiting until she looks up at me. When she does, I smile, squeezing her fingers gently. “I know this is hard for you. I get it. But please, make yourself at home. I want…” I trail off, puffing out a breath of air as I try to find the right words to say to her. Words that won’t make her feel like running. “I want you to feel at home here. So seriously, what’s mine is yours. It’s all good.”

Sloane nods, licking her lips again, which I’m starting to think is something she does when she’s nervous or doesn’t know what to say. Just when I think she’s going to pull her hand from mine and walk away, she tips her head toward the counter and says, “Anything I can do to help?”

With a grin, I squeeze her fingers once more before reluctantly letting go. “How are you with a cheese grater?” I ask, giving her a wink.

Dinner is amazing, and it’s so hard for me to not keep eating. I’m pretty sure the moan I let out when I took my first bite might have given Owen some dirty thoughts.

“You want more?” he now asks, a sweet little smirk on his face. “There’s plenty.”

I look at the plate in front of us, piled with more food than two people could possibly eat, and all I see are dollar signs.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. I don’t need to worry about how much the food costs or how much waste there is. I need to let this go.

“Would it be okay if I ate the leftovers for lunch tomorrow?” I ask, sounding ridiculous. Owen Sinclair doesn’t do leftovers. He could literally buy the grocery store.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it?” he responds, his brow furrowed, confused by my question. “Take whatever you want. I’ll eat whatever is left if there is any.”

This doesn’t have to be an issue.

It’s already an issue that I’m living here for basically pennies, and now the food. I need to get over it or Owen is going to be evicting me too.

“Sloane,” Owen now says, my name said with such conviction and honesty that I feel it in my soul. He’s a good person. I know this, but it’s still hard to let him in. “This doesn’t have to be anything but roommates. I have no expectations. I’m not going to try to make you fall in love with me.” He pauses, letting out a soft chuckle. “My house is your house, and I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel safe.”

“Thank you,” I reply timidly, wanting the things he said, but it’s going to take me a while to get there. I might not even get there in the time that I live here.

This isn’t permanent. It’s just until I can get enough money together to get my own place, but I have no idea when that will be.

Owen drags a hand through his unruly brown hair, smiling at me as he does, and I have to admit, he’s quite handsome, sexy at times even. He doesn’t ever give off the persona of the typical island rich boy. If anything, he’s the total opposite.

I wet my lips, and Owen’s eyes fall to my mouth, sending a spike of lust through me. The way his deep brown eyes take me in, the way he looks at me like I’m the only girl he’s ever been interested in. And it’s hard not to picture his impressive surfer’s body, all lean muscle and six-pack abs. I shouldn’t find him attractive. He’s now my roommate, and hooking up with him would only complicate things.

“Seriously though, Owen,” I start, trying to find the right words to thank him. He’s doing me the biggest favor I’ve ever received in my life, and I don’t think he has any idea how much that means.

“Nah,” he interjects, shaking his head, his brown locks moving in the cutest way. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. It’s everything.”

I swallow back the urge to say more. He doesn’t need my tragic life story. He doesn’t need to hear about my years in foster care or my shitty mother, or that I sleep with my door locked. I’m not here for him to save me.

I don’t need to be saved.

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