Page 15 of Odin
The pain of so much endless kindness radiates through me. I have nothing to say to that. I just stare at him, with what is probably a very silly expression.
“I have a TV in there. Books. Music. It’s homey. If you can’t sleep, you could at least watch something or do some reading.”
God. This mangetsit. It’s wild that after less than a day of knowing me, he sees things that Preston never did. I know that’s mean, and maybe I’m not in the right headspace, but maybe Ialso cut him too much slack, making excuses for how often he failed to notice the little things.
“I can’t take your room!” I insist. “I’ve already invaded your life in every way and you’ve been so nice about it.”
Odin studies me very carefully, and then finally, his tight expression eases. “I like the way you can look me in the face and not shy away. Most people can’t. I think it’s the patch. People want to stare, but if I’m staring back, they get creeped out.”
“You’re beautiful, you know. In this rugged, wild way.”Oh my fucking god.I can’t believe I just said that. Backing out now would only be worse, but going forward is equally as bad. I try to make up something on the spot, floundering painfully. “I keep thinking that you sort of resemble a bear. That’s probably what scares people. This pirate, leather wearing grizzly that pops up and they don’t know whether to be titillated or to piss themselves.”
Titillated. Did I also really just say that?
He throws back his head and laughs. I haven’t offended him at all and I’m fuckingglad. “Yup. Not timid in the least.”
“I guess we’re just past that.” Duh. Look at what I came here and asked him. That’s a surefire quick as fuck way to get acquainted with someone on an extremely personal level. “Thank you so much for putting up with me. You don’t have to. And I definitely don’t need to sleep in your room.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “You asked if I knew what it was like to have regrets.”
Did I? I guess I did, I just didn’t phrase it that way.
“I know what you’re talking about. Being alone, looking back at your life and not recognizing yourself anymore, all of that. I was in Hart before I realized just how much I needed to change. I’m honestly surprised that I didn’t die before I got here. I used to fight. Real fights, not one of those all for show ones. It’s a damn good fucking thing that I never killed anyone either.” He points to the eyepatch. “I lost this in a bar fight. It was fucking stupid. Some asshole stabbed me with a broken bottle. To this day, I can’t even remember what the fuck we were fighting about.”
I suck in air through my teeth, my eye aching in sympathy pain. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” I clench my hands tightly in my lap, but don’t break eye contact. “I’m sorry for every moment of hurt.”
He doesn’t pass it off or do the typical manly thing and tell me that he’s never had a moment of emotional or mental pain in his life. He dips his head, acknowledging it. A strand of hair comes undone from his unique cut, flopping out of place, but I think it’s kind of adorable. It makes him even more relatable.
“It’s hard to get to a point where you’re satisfied in life, or maybe even happy, but once you do, you almost forget just how bad it felt before all of that. I’ve lived a good life for so many years now, that it’s hard to remember what it’s like to be always on edge. But believe me, I’ve been there.”
He still hasn’t moved, and I want to reassure him that I truly am okay. “I’ll be able to sleep, and if not, I’ll just stare at the ceiling. The beams are pretty, and the ductwork is interesting. Anyway, your room is yours. It’s full ofyourthings.”
He shrugs. “I can do without them all for a night.”
“You don’t feel like that’s an invasion of your privacy?”
“No.” He’s not forcing this at all. He really doesn’t see this as a massive invasion of privacy. I don’t know how to be that way, but seeing his example, Iwantto be. It’s like growing enamored after witnessing someone doing something amazing for the first time. Magic. Music. Sports.
“Even if I go digging through things?” I fall back on sarcastic humor, because that’s the one thing I’ve always been good at, especially when it comes to hiding my discomfort.
That word, enamored, hit a little too close to home and now I’m barely stopping myself from squirming in place.
“Other than the records and books, or flicking through the movies I have downloaded, is that likely?”
I’m the one who shrugs now, but only playfully.
“Feel free to go through my underwear and sock drawers, but there ain’t anything in my room I don’t mind people knowing about.” He’s not messing around.
I have to stop. The truth tracks up my throat, scalding hot. “I wish I could be as secure in myself as you are. I can’t even pretend that I am.”
“I want to be the kind of man that the younger guys around here can look up to. I’m not an officer, I never wanted that. I didn’t need a title or a patch on my jacket other than what I had. What you see is what you get.”
“Everyone’s a work in progress,” I say, in agreement with him. “That’s the beautiful part of life. That there’s never any end to what you can learn.” Shit, here I go with the burning eyesand the watery sinuses. I sniffle loudly, appalled. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m getting so emotional” I swipe at my eyes, then reach over to the nightstand for the glass of water and chug it. I guess this is what the thawing looks like. Lots of tears that won’t stop leaking out.
“That’s it. You’re taking my room. At least if you’re going to be sad, you can do it in style in there. Music. Candles. Chick flicks. Chocolate. Anything you want.”
“That’s very cliché,” I accuse, but I still snort on the verge of laughter anyway.
“Warm socks then. You’re welcome to dig through the drawers if you want. I have some great wool pairs in there.”
