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My fork clatters to the porch, and I turn to him with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. You startled me.”
“I see that.” He raises a brow, reminding me I never answered his question. A huff of air passes my lips as I debate whether I want to.
“I was thinking about you, actually,” I murmur, fiddling with a loose thread on my shirt. Kain’s shirt, I remind myself, even as I breathe in the intoxicating smell of him. It’s earthy and spiced with his cologne, and it’s one of the main reasons I allowed him to put it on me. It would be a shame not to.
“What about me?” he asks. “Nothing good, I hope.”
A laugh bubbles past my lips. “Most people hope it’s nothing bad.”
“Is that so?”
“It is. And sorry to disappoint, but no. It wasn’t anything bad.”
Something flashes across his face, but it’s gone too fast for me to tell what it is. “What a shame. I was hoping for something depraved.”
Another laugh. Another flash of that strange emotion. “I’m sure you were. But no. I was wondering who on earth raised you. Your mother must have been fierce.” I flash him a toothy grin, feeling bold. “That, and I was thinking about how good you smell.”
Kain chokes. Actually chokes at my words. “I… thank you.”
“Is that a blush I see?” I wiggle my brows, refusing to back down even as his eyes darken.
“Careful, flower,” he mutters, the muscle in the side of his jaw ticking. His eyes seem to say you know I can’t help myself. Just the thought sends a shiver down my spine.
Because I can’t help myself, either.
“So were you close with your parents?” I ask, feigning nonchalance. Subject change successful.
Kain’s brow raises, and I get the distinct understanding I wasn’t as successful as I thought. Still, he doesn’t push the previous subject.
“I was close with my mother when she lived. My father…” Hatred flares in his gaze for a split second before Kain locks it away, along with every other real emotion I’ve seen. “We didn’t see eye to eye.”
Always so damn cryptic.
I’m not sure what makes me ask my next question, but an overwhelming urge to know something real about this strange man takes hold, and I get its claws out.
“What happened to her? Your mother?” I ask, my voice as gentle as I can make it. For a second, I’m positive he’s going to shut me out, to tell me to go to hell and storm off on his bike. But then the fog in his gaze clears, and he speaks.
“She died when I was six. “ He looks away for the first time all morning, staring hard at the dense thicket of eucalyptus. My breathing halts, scared if I make a noise, he’ll retreat to that dark shell of his.
“I was there when it happened,” he finally says, his words no louder than a whisper. “She got a message on the house phone—one of my father’s mistresses. She was beside herself, screaming, crying, breaking anything she could get her hands on. The only thing that stopped her was when one of the shards struck my cheek. I’m still not sure if she would have noticed if I hadn’t cried out…” He shakes, and a curtain falls over his face. “That was the final straw, apparently. The only man she ever loved was cheating on her, and her actions directly caused the injury of her son.” A puff of air escapes his lips. “She was getting the first-aid kit from under the sink, and the next second, she was on the floor. I tried… I tried to wake her, but she was gone.”
Again, he looks out at the forest. “I can still remember the look on my father’s face when he found the two of us huddled beneath the sink. He couldn’t believe it. No one could.” At this, he looks at me. “They said the tendons in her heart ruptured. A medical anomaly is what the doctors called it. A tragic, unfortunate loss of life. A fluke.”
But it wasn’t a fluke, was it? I can’t breathe, can’t look away from that steely look in his eye.
“A broken heart. She died of a broken heart,” I whisper, worried if I speak any louder, my chest will crack in two. It’s rare, and I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard stories where the tendons of the heart rupture abruptly. It’s tragic, like he said, and the patients almost always die immediately.
Kain nods once. “She did.”
The silence between us thickens the air, and I’m reminded of the air in the greenhouse. I know what it’s like to hold a dying parent in your arms, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
“I’m so sorry, Kain.” Hollow. The words are hollow in my chest, in the air. But there’s nothing I can say to make it better, no words to tell him how much sorrow I hold for his loss. It wouldn’t make a difference, anyway.
“Thank you, Lillith.” He turns to face me, and I’m struck by how handsome he is in the morning light, even with the mask. “I’m sorry as well. I’m sorry for all you’ve had to go through, all you’ve lost…” It looks like he’s debating whether to say more, but at the end, he simply repeats, “I’m sorry.”
I don’t know what else to say on the subject, afraid to push too far. “Do you have another fork?” I ask, gesturing to the one I dropped. Kain nods, gets up from his chair, and enters the house without bothering to tether me or even ask if I plan to run away. I wonder if he finally knows the truth—that I won’t. I jump when Kain places the fork on my plate, nearly knocking that one to the floor as well.
“Any other burning questions?” I look up at his face, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear a smirk tugged at his mouth. Hot and cold, hot and cold.
