Page 48 of The Icing on the Cake
Something wars inside me as I try to slow my breathing. I can’t stay here. But I can’t just leave him to fend for himself, either.
“Did you find him?” he asks from the hall. When I spin around, he’s leaning against the wall, still shirtless, somehow managing to look all sorts of scrumptious. It makes my heart do things it has no business doing.
“It seems Henry has taken to your bed,” I say, scooping Henry off the duvet.
“I’m happy to share it,” he says. “I really don’t like sleeping alone.”
Heat prickles down my spine. “Well, you can borrow Henry anytime you like.” I brush past him and head for the door.
“Neesha, wait.” His voice stops me cold.
I don’t turn around. Because if I do, I might not have the strength to leave.
“Is this how it’s going to be from now on?” His voice is raw. “You looking at me like I’m him? Like I’m just another guy who’s going to hurt you?”
The pain in his voice makes me ache.
I stop, then turn back to face him. “You’re nothing like him,” I whisper.
“Then why are you running?” He moves closer, his eyes searching mine. “I know that I broke your trust. But don’t let that erase everything else between us. I don’t want to be your risk—I want to be your refuge. Let me be your safe place. Don’t let him win by making you afraid again.”
“I’m not afraid.” But I’m not even sure I believe it.
“Does that mean you won’t shut me out?” he asks. “That I might even get another chance?”
“I don’t know, Lucian." I pause. "But I do know one thing—if we continue, you have to be honest with me. Abouteverything.”
“I promise,” he says, the relief flooding his face. “Neesha, I’ve been carrying this secret for weeks, hating myself for not telling you, worried you’d hate me too.”
“For what it’s worth,” I say. “I hate seeing you hurt more than I hate that you lied to me.”
I head out the door before I can see the effect of my words.
When I reach my place, I see him through the window, limping toward the couch, his face wincing with every step.
No matter how much I want to stop thinking of him—how much I desperately need to stop caring—I already know I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.
CHAPTER 14
NEESHA
Ilast about thirty minutes. That’s how long I manage to stay in my own apartment, pacing back and forth, checking the clock, heating up soup, looking through the window, and rooting through my freezer for more frozen vegetables.
What if his ribs are actually broken? What if he needs something in the middle of the night and can’t get to it? I’ve seen how athletes can push themselves past the point of safety. My mom was the same way—insisting she felt fine, even when she was in terrible pain.
That could be why I’m so worried—I know what it’s like to take care of someone and feel helpless to ease their pain.
As much as I’d like to shut Lucian out, I can’t do that. Not when I’m right next door and can see him through the window. Instead of sleeping in his bedroom, he’s lounging on his couch directly in my view, looking pathetic and miserable.
Henry heads toward the door and sits in front of it, like he’s ready to head back to Lucian’s whenever I am.
I let out a sigh of defeat. “This is ridiculous. I’m just being a good neighbor,” I reason, gathering up a container of chicken soup, two bags of frozen vegetables (not peas, thank goodness),an extra pillow, and a blanket. “He’d do the same for me. It doesn’t mean I have feelings for him.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I show up at Lucian’s door again, determined to camp out in his living room—as far away as possible from his bedroom. No matter how many red flags my heart is waving, this isonlyabout his welfare.
Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
“You brought the frozen vegetables,” he notes when he opens the door. “Thanks for remembering.” Lucian holds out his hand, waiting on me to pass them over, before his eyes graze over the rest of my things. “Are we making a pillow fort tonight?”
