Page 48 of The Heartbreak Hotel
“Can I ask you something?”
Henry’s voice is soft. “Of course.”
“What’s your family like?”
Henry inhales, arms tightening around each other like he’s protecting himself. “Normal,” he tells me, not an answer at all. “I’m an only child. My parents were teachers. They inherited this house from my dad’s parents, who built it in the fifties.”
I tip my head to one side, studying him. The way he’s tucked in on himself.
“What?” he says.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
The line appears between his eyebrows. This time, I don’t stop myself from reaching into the space between us—drawingone fingertip over his skin to smooth it out. Henry holds his breath until my hand drops back to my side.
“You look scared,” I say softly. “To talk to me about this.”
He doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t say anything at all. He only swallows—steadying—and lets out a breath that parts his lips, shows me the pink of his tongue.
“I won’t make you,” I say. When I tip back against the wall he leans toward me, making up the distance. “We can talk about something else—like the garden.” His eyebrows lift, and I say, “What’s going on? I’ve seen you arguing with Joss twice now.”
“We aren’t arguing,” Henry says. I notice the present tense: that whatever they’re fighting about, it isn’t resolved. He shifts his weight, bringing us another hair’s breadth closer. “Just discussing.”
I tilt my head. “Discussing quite animatedly.”
“I have a lot of opinions,” Henry says, “about plants.”
I narrow my eyes, feel my mouth betraying me into a smile. “Really.”
“Really,” he echoes.
“I wouldn’t expect that from you.”
“No?” He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move his gaze from mine. “What would you expect from me?”
I press my lips together. I never know, is the truth. Henry has surprised me in every single way.
“I expect that you make your bed every morning with hospital corners.”
He lets out a short breath, halfway to laughter. “Correct.”
“I expect that you hated group projects in school.”
A real laugh, this time. His eyes close, his teeth flashing, andI want to make him laugh again and again and again. “Correct,” he says.
“I expect,” I say, slowly, testing my resolve, “that you still think the Comeback Inn is silly.”
Henry tips closer to me. “Incorrect.”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth. “I expect you’re annoyed by how often you’ve had to come over here since I started this.”
Henry’s eyes dip to my mouth. “Incorrect.”
“I expect,” I say, slowly, “that if I asked you to stay for dinner tonight, you would say yes.”
Henry’s lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. He uncrosses his arms. “Correct.”
Twenty
