“No, jerk.” I suffocate the desire to go and shake him so hard his teeth clack. “That’s what normal people do.”
“Ask each other about their eating habits?”
“No,” I reply with a growl. “They care about other people.”
With that, I turn away, expecting some snarky remark, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I feel his stare on the back of my head. The man is weird.
Once the coffee is done, I pour a mug and ask him, “How do you take it?”
“Black.”
Figures. I fill the mug to the brim and carry it to him. He’s still squatting by the fire, staring at the flames. His hands hang from his knees.
“Here.” I push the mug toward him.
He looks up at me and carefully takes it from my hands, avoiding contact with my skin.
“Thanks.”
I should go back to my task as far away from him as possible, but instead, I sit on my knees and hide my palms under my butt. He sends me a curious look but doesn’t say a word. We’rewatching the fire in comfortable silence until I open my big mouth to make it a little less comfortable.
“Why are you here, Archie?”
“I’m here because I bought this place. Your turn.” His side-eye is heavy.
“No, I mean,whyare you here,” I stress my question, hoping he’ll drop this annoying persona for a moment and be real with me. We’ve met before, so I don’t know why he’s so dead set on hiding behind this mask. “It’s such a remote location. And you knew it was going to snow, but you have no food.” I gesture toward the kitchen. “And yet here you are, expecting to be snowed in. So, why are you here?”
He stares ahead. The fire mirrors in his dark eyes, the muscle in his jaw ticks, and his usually plush lips form a thin line.
After a moment, he looks at me, and when he finds whatever he’s looking for on my face, he speaks. “If we’re going down this road, you’ll have to tell me why you’re here.” I want to say something, but he quickly adds, “Oh, stop it. We both know there’s a reason you’re here. A reason you don’t want to share. Just like I don’t want to share.” His eyes roam my face. “With anyone.”
I watch him darken before my very eyes. I know that last comment was meant to hurt on purpose by showing that I’m no one, just like everybody else, but it comes from a place of pain where he’d rather push someone away than be hurt. I noticed it the first time I saw him on that bridge—it was so obvious to me that I thought it was obvious to everyone. I thought he must have a lot of friends and good people in his life that could help him get out of that hole he found himself in. But the more I look, the more I understand that they don’t see it at all. Not like I do. They don’t see a man lost in his pain; they don’t see someone in desperate need of help, one who hides behind flirty smiles andquick humor. Even my brother doesn’t see it. And for the love of everything, I can’t understand why.
“I’m glad I’m here,” I say, watching his face contort again.
His jaw sets tighter, and his eyes narrow. “I’m not.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to be liked by everyone. One person somewhere out there is more than enough.” I shrug my shoulders. “It’s not like I can do anything to change the situation, so, yeah,” I shrug again, “I’m glad I’m here.”
“Why?” he croaks.
“Because this is where I should be.” I smile and turn back to the fire, still feeling his eyes on me.
“You’re weird,” he says in wonder.
“I know.” I smile again and push my palms deeper under my butt, attempting to warm them.
He rises to his feet and walks to the bed. Grabbing the white, fluffy comforter from it, he returns and carefully places it over my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I whisper, surprised he picked up on my discomfort.
I expect him to leave, but instead, he plants his fine butt on the floor and sips his coffee.
“Did you talk to Alex?”
I shake my head. If I talked to him, I wouldn’t be in this situation now.
“Right.” He takes a sip. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
