She sucks in a shaky breath like she’s prepping for a verbal smack down.
“I think you’ve been through more in twenty years of life than most people twice your age. You witnessed your mother being abused, heard her being raped by a man who you thought up until you were sixteen-years-old was your father. Then you find out the man who really is your father took advantage of your mom, knew she got pregnant, and took off anyway.” Her eyes tear up, but I can’t stop now. She needs to hear this. “Things are looking up for you now. You got a great stepdad who’d fucking kill for you; he loves you so much. You got a baby brother who acts like you’re happiness incarnate, and you get to watch that…”
A soft whimper falls from her lips.
“You get to watch the perfect family you always wanted, and even though you’re a part of it, you still feel like you don’t belong. Like you’re the outsider looking in. And that…” I shrug. “That kills you.”
She nods slowly as a single tear falls down her face.
“I don’t see a damsel in distress in need of saving. I see a woman just trying to make sense of her life, searching for where she fits in it all. I’d like to be there while she does that, make sure she stays in one piece so that when she does finally grab hold of her piece of happiness, she does it alive and healthy enough to enjoy it.”
Her hands cup her face, and her shoulders shake with silent cries.
“Come here.” I pull her down to my chest and wrap her up in my arms. She’s not a big girl, average height and the perfect weight—fit with healthy curves—but in my arms she feels tiny.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her cheek is pressed to my pec and her arm thrown over my gut. “You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had.”
Friend.
I cringe hard at that word.
Fuck, at this rate, the way I keep shoving myself into the friend zone, it’s all I’ll ever be.
Four
Axelle
I don’t know which woke me up first, the sound of breakfast being made or the smell of bacon and melted butter. Either way the first thing I see when I crack open my eyes is Killian’s back while he works at his tiny stove, mixing up what I hope will be breakfast for two.
I snuggle deeper into the Downey-scented sheets and admire his entire backside: his broad shoulders that pull the thin fabric of a worn T-shirt taut, the mounds of muscle that jump in his back as he moves effortlessly in the small space of his kitchenette, rippling triceps, and the narrow waist that flares into a healthy round ass that holds up his heather-gray sweatpants. God bless squats.
He moves to put something in the fridge and catches me staring. Those whiskey-colored eyes shine behind black-framed glasses, his dark hair falls over his forehead, and the side of his mouth lifts in a crooked grin. “Morning.”
“Hey, you sure are busy at this ungodly hour.” I stretch and notice his eyes track down to my chest before he whips his head around to focus on the contents of his fridge.
“It’s almost nine in the morning, Ax.” He shuts the door, and his bare feet slap against the tile as he goes back to whatever he was doing on the stovetop.
“But it’s Saturday. Wait…” I prop myself up on my elbows, and I don’t have to see my hair to know I look like Beetlejuice. I can feel it. “Why aren’t you at the training center?”
He scoops something onto two plates. Score! “Blake and Jonah forbid it. Said I needed a recovery day.” He moves to place the plates on the small table, and I notice then there are two icy glasses of water already waiting.
I smack my lips together, my mouth feeling like I sucked on a sock in my sleep while the tang of metal mixes with the soreness from my piercing. “That’s probably smart.”
“Come eat.” He stands at the table with a shy smile that adds a boyish handsomeness to his intimidating size.
I hop out of bed and hit the bathroom then move to the kitchenette, smoothing down my hair as much as I can manage, which isn’t much seeing as I can still see it from my peripheral vision. “Going to bed with wet hair is never advisable. Don’t suppose you have a ponytail holder, huh?”
The corner of his mouth lifts as he studies my hair. “I think it looks great.”
“Ha! You’re such a liar.” I take a seat in front of a full plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. “Kill, this looks so good. I’m starving.”
He moves to the small bowl where he keeps his keys and comes back to drop a black ponytail holder next to my plate.
“Oh, you do have one?” A flicker of something really uncomfortable tenses my belly. “How do you have a hair tie in your place?”
He takes his seat and shovels a bite of eggs into his mouth, swallowing and lifting a brow. “How do you think?”
That uncomfortable feeling twists violently. “Oh, um…” Wow. A girl. Nice. I mean good for him. I slick back my unruly hair with a little more aggression than is required.