Page 46 of In You
I'd give my pinky toe to be able to just throw on my jacket and get in a car for a long drive. Craving introspection that won't come because there's so many holes and gaps in my memory that I know all it'd do is piss me off.
I look down at my arm in its cast, blinking, trying yet again to remember the circumstances on how I broke my hand. A flash of something flits across the edges of my memory, but I grumble, shaking my head and tilting it back on against the couch on a sigh. "This sucks monkey balls, Tink."
I put the remote down in favor of petting her, and who knows how long we stay like that. The front door closing has me rolling my head over to eye Caleb, who's pulling off his jacket. I'm so fucking jealous he's got use of both arms. It's not fair.
"Why're you always sucking on something?"I ask with a slight attitude in my voice, scrunching my face up when he comes through the threshold with what looks like honeysuckle in his mouth.
He frowns, and then pulls it out of his mouth, looking at it like he's seeing it for the first time before tossing it into the fireplace. "I'm not?"
I scoff. "Yeah you are. You can't go long without something in your mouth. A toothpick, cigarettes…that,"I emphasize, gesturing at the honeysuckle burning to nothing in the fire. "You got some on your lip."
Caleb brings a hand up, keeping his eyes on me while he wipes it off. I want to laugh, but honestly, I don't trust him enough to let my guard down much.
I'm having a hard time trusting anyone right now. Even Sarah. He notices it too.
"You've been crying again," he says in a low tone, turning his eyes from mine to walk to the opposite couch and then sits, spreading his knees. I purse my lips, hating that I'm attracted to him despite the fact that he's keeping me here.
"I seasoned some chicken," I say dismissively, feeling my face impassive. "It's baking in the oven."
He cuts his eyes to me. "You know you don't have to cook. I'm more than capable, and I never expect you to. Especially with your arm like that."
I scoff, petting Tink. "Don't worry about it, I've been cooking for a while with my arm hurting a lot worse than this." Also, if I cook, there's less of a chance he'll be able to poison me. I briefly wonder why he isn't worried I'll poisonhim.
He takes a sip, then groans appreciatively. "Thanks for cooking. It smells really good in here, by the way."
I say nothing. I'm not going to thank him for complimenting me on a skill I only have because Calvin forced me to learn how to cook. The memory stings. He gets up, walking over to the little drinks cabinet by the fireplace and pours himself a scotch, then half turns to me.
"You want something?"
"No." I feel my nose scrunch. "I don't drink."
He shifts his weight in his seat as a strange look crosses his face, and his eyes narrow as they slide from mine. "I'll refresh your hot cocoa then."
Abandoning his scotch, he picks up my mug off the end table and disappears into the kitchen. After a moment I hear the electric kettle ping, and him moving around in there. I tense, pushing back into the couch when he comes a bit too fast with it. I know he can't help it but he's a large, intimidating man, and no matter how gentle he's been with me I know from experience that people can flip on you at the drop of a dime.
My heart skips a beat, and I hold up my hand."Stop,"I say in a shaky voice. My heart patters weakly in my chest, and I feel myself go warm, suddenly afraid.
This man is a lot bigger than me. Bigger than Calvin was. He turns and very slowly places my mug back on the end table. And then, as if I didn't just have a miniature freak out, he slowly walks back to his seat and lowers himself into it with a relievedsigh, kicking off his shoes and scooting them over to the side of the couch.
"Shit, it feels good to take my shoes off," he says conversationally, taking a sip of his scotch.
My pounding heart goes back to normal, and I lean forward, snatching up my mug and pulling the cover up to my chest. "You don't have to talk to me, you know," I snap, averting my eyes from him as I take a sip.
I look inside, pleasure filling me at the sight of the mini marshmallows floating at the surface.
"You live here with me. You think I'm not going to talk to you?" he asks in a light tone. A playful grin tips his mouth up on one side, and he arches a brow as he takes a drink and pulls up his leg to rest his ankle on his knee. I tighten my lips at the sight of his bare feet, and how obviously at ease and relaxed he is in his space. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch and just watches me.
My mind races back to Calvin again.
Fuck, I hate that, but I can't but help draw comparisons between the two men. Calvin and I never relaxed at home, and he always had on shoes. Stuffy, and presenting as polished and put together even in his own home. We never had days where we relaxed on the couch having a drink and talking. Not that I can remember, anyways. He didn't want a companion, he wanted a dutiful housewife.
"Don't you fucking go to work?" I say irritably.
"I kill people for a living, Tam," he replies as he stares at me. "It's not exactly a nine-to-five job."
I make a soft sound in my throat."Fucking just my luck.Stuck with another psychopath."
His brow arches. "Is that what you think of me?"
