Too wired not to notice.
Janie takes August to the small room I cleared earlier, the one that used to be full of parts. I moved enough pieces to the garage to fit a spare mattress because August kept asking if Derby’s house had another cave. Apparently now it does.
Janie says she will sit with him until he falls asleep. Lottie says she will check back in the morning. Oaks waits outside until she pulls away, then leaves too after giving me a look that says he knows I ain’t okay and is smart enough not to say it.
Then the house is quiet.
Just me and Amelia in my kitchen.
Me at my own table.
My hands in her lap.
She cleans my knuckles with a tenderness that should make me feel better and instead makes me want to tear through my own skin.
Because she is too soft.
Not weak soft.
Good soft.
The kind that makes a man understand exactly how unworthy he is while still wanting to crawl closer.
She dabs antiseptic over a split, and I hiss.
“Baby,” she mutters.
My eyes snap to her face.
She freezes.
So do I.
She did not mean it like that. Maybe. Maybe she did. Maybe it just slipped out because she is tired and scared and I’m bleeding on the kitchen towel.
Her cheeks turn pink.
Not the time.
My body disagrees.
My body is a bastard.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t.”
She looks up.
“Don’t apologize for that.”
Her throat moves.
The room changes.
I feel it before she leans in.
Before her fingers tighten around my wrist.