squeezes. I bite my lip and lift my head heavenward in guilt. It’s been eating away at me for hours. I’ve only just decided it’s safe enough to come visit Xavier and apologise. I’ve come bearing gifts though. Hopefully this means he won’t go through with his threat to kill me. I cringe at the memory of what went down this morning.
Gah. You’re such a turd.
My hand hovers over the door handle before I grip it tightly and turn it slowly. I open the door a few inches and peek in. Xavier sits with his back to the bedhead, shirtless, with Frankie’s laptop on his thighs.
My cheeks heat as we make eye contact. Mainly because I’m embarrassed that I’m such a callous, cruel person. I swallow hard and ask weakly, “Can I come in?”
Lips tight, he averts his gaze back down to the laptop and shrugs in a suit yourself motion.
In his state of undress, I leave the door wide open and walk in. If Bob caught me in here with the door shut, he’d shoot me. Well, probably not me. Xavier, likely.
I try desperately not to stare at the bandages winding up his forearm.
His eyes narrow on the basket in my hands.
Hesitantly, he closes the lid on the laptop, puts it on the nightstand and sits cross-legged on the bed. He jerks his chin and asks, “What’s that?”
I don’t dare look into his eyes.
Hypocritical bitch.
I clear my throat and lift the basket higher. “It’s just a basket of goodies I thought you might like. I went into town this morning and ... um… I know Tomas like the chocolate éclairs from Nanette’s bakery. While I was there, I picked up a whole bunch of stuff ‘cause I didn’t know what you liked so I got almost one of everything.”
His eyes narrow at my false cheer.
My shoulders slump and I hold out the basket nervously. “Will you just take it please? It’s the only way I know how to apologise without actually apologising.”
His brows rise a little. “Why the apology?”
Asshole.
He’s really going to make me say this out loud.
I sigh deeply. “Because what I said was stupid. You didn’t need to hear that while you’re trying to get better. I had no right to judge you or be a bitch.” I pause. “A heartless bitch.”
His face softens. “Kind of a theme with you, huh? Judging people.”
If he wants to be a smartass, I’ll be a smartass right back. “Not people. Just you.”
His lips twitch. “What you got in that basket?” Not a second later, his stomach rumbles. Loudly.
I grin. “Got your appetite back?”
“Yeah. The shakes stopped this morning. I feel pretty average though , but at least I’m not puking anymore.”
“That’s great. Really. You’re handling this better than most . I’m sure.” No thanks to me . “You should be proud.” I’m almost shocked that I mean it.
His hands moves to gently scratch at his bandage and I know he thinks I’m talking shit. I don’t know what possesses me but I let him in on a secret. “You’re not the only person who fucks up, you know. We all do. It’s part of being human. You have to learn to forgive yourself and get past it or it’ll eat you alive.” I hadn’t meant for that to sound so shaky.
He breathes deeply and then replies on an exhale, “You make it sound like you’ve done worse.”
My face remains void when I answer softly, “We’ve all made mistakes.”
His arms rise and he crosses them behind his head. He utters, “Okay. Tell me something you’ve done that was fucked up.”
I know what he’s doing. He’s baiting me to see if I’ll answer him. He’s testing me.
Moving to the edge of his bed, I sit down, away from him and start, “I’ve been here forever. This has been my home since I was just a baby. Father Robert took me in and I knew my life would always be this church.”
“Were you forced into becoming a nun?” He actually sounds concerned.
“No. Absolutely not. In fact, Father Robert tried to talk me out of it multiple times. He thought I was only doing it to make him
Gah. You’re such a turd.
My hand hovers over the door handle before I grip it tightly and turn it slowly. I open the door a few inches and peek in. Xavier sits with his back to the bedhead, shirtless, with Frankie’s laptop on his thighs.
My cheeks heat as we make eye contact. Mainly because I’m embarrassed that I’m such a callous, cruel person. I swallow hard and ask weakly, “Can I come in?”
Lips tight, he averts his gaze back down to the laptop and shrugs in a suit yourself motion.
In his state of undress, I leave the door wide open and walk in. If Bob caught me in here with the door shut, he’d shoot me. Well, probably not me. Xavier, likely.
I try desperately not to stare at the bandages winding up his forearm.
His eyes narrow on the basket in my hands.
Hesitantly, he closes the lid on the laptop, puts it on the nightstand and sits cross-legged on the bed. He jerks his chin and asks, “What’s that?”
I don’t dare look into his eyes.
Hypocritical bitch.
I clear my throat and lift the basket higher. “It’s just a basket of goodies I thought you might like. I went into town this morning and ... um… I know Tomas like the chocolate éclairs from Nanette’s bakery. While I was there, I picked up a whole bunch of stuff ‘cause I didn’t know what you liked so I got almost one of everything.”
His eyes narrow at my false cheer.
My shoulders slump and I hold out the basket nervously. “Will you just take it please? It’s the only way I know how to apologise without actually apologising.”
His brows rise a little. “Why the apology?”
Asshole.
He’s really going to make me say this out loud.
I sigh deeply. “Because what I said was stupid. You didn’t need to hear that while you’re trying to get better. I had no right to judge you or be a bitch.” I pause. “A heartless bitch.”
His face softens. “Kind of a theme with you, huh? Judging people.”
If he wants to be a smartass, I’ll be a smartass right back. “Not people. Just you.”
His lips twitch. “What you got in that basket?” Not a second later, his stomach rumbles. Loudly.
I grin. “Got your appetite back?”
“Yeah. The shakes stopped this morning. I feel pretty average though , but at least I’m not puking anymore.”
“That’s great. Really. You’re handling this better than most . I’m sure.” No thanks to me . “You should be proud.” I’m almost shocked that I mean it.
His hands moves to gently scratch at his bandage and I know he thinks I’m talking shit. I don’t know what possesses me but I let him in on a secret. “You’re not the only person who fucks up, you know. We all do. It’s part of being human. You have to learn to forgive yourself and get past it or it’ll eat you alive.” I hadn’t meant for that to sound so shaky.
He breathes deeply and then replies on an exhale, “You make it sound like you’ve done worse.”
My face remains void when I answer softly, “We’ve all made mistakes.”
His arms rise and he crosses them behind his head. He utters, “Okay. Tell me something you’ve done that was fucked up.”
I know what he’s doing. He’s baiting me to see if I’ll answer him. He’s testing me.
Moving to the edge of his bed, I sit down, away from him and start, “I’ve been here forever. This has been my home since I was just a baby. Father Robert took me in and I knew my life would always be this church.”
“Were you forced into becoming a nun?” He actually sounds concerned.
“No. Absolutely not. In fact, Father Robert tried to talk me out of it multiple times. He thought I was only doing it to make him
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