I nod. The sorrowful acknowledgement of my life lodges deep in my throat, making it difficult to swallow. “She insists I’m on drugs.” My voice is weak. Pathetic.
Abraham’s head tilts slightly to the right as if he’s listening to something, a usual habit of his. My mind conjures an image of Grandma Julia doing nearly the same thing during our argument. But before I can delve too far into that, he speaks and pulls me from my train of thoughts.
“Are you?” His eyes drop to the scars on my wrists, and I instinctively turn my arm to hide them.
I can’t help but compare the vastly different reactions between Adriel and Abraham. Adriel adamantly knew I’m not on drugs whereas Abraham questions me. Fury boils to the surface, pinching my lips tightly and flaring my nostrils.
“No,” I snap.
He holds up his hands in a placating gesture, as if he’s attempting to tame a beast. “I assure you I wasn’t trying to accuse.”
With another heavy sigh, I sink further into the couch. Feeling lower than a worm. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be. It’s not my place to pass judgement.”
“I wish the rest of the town thought that way,” I mumble.
Abraham’s head bobs up and down, making his chair rock silently. Thank fuck it doesn’t creak like Grandma Julia’s. “Unfortunately, that is not the case. At least not in my experience.”
“How long have you lived here?” I ask, closing my laptop and setting it to the side. Turning, I angle my body so I’m facing Abraham more directly. His eyes bounce around at each bunch and jerk of muscle, evidence of my body refusing to settle in his presence. An image of him kissing and licking along my muscles makes my stomach roil uncomfortably.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to focus on our conversation. We’ve always just talked about nonsense, or books, when we’ve hung out previously. Though each visit was brief, it was almost as if I could hear the ticking of the clock counting down the seconds. I don’t feel that now. But sitting in his living room feels more intimate than anything before.
“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Abraham says with a heavy sigh, oblivious to the mental gymnastics I’m currently fighting.
“Really?” Not sure why I ask since it’s not like he’d lie to me. He’s just so unlike everyone else in this town.
“My family has been a part of this town since it was founded.” His eyes stare off into the distance, as if he’s remembering some long-lost memory until his head cocks to the side subtly and the ghost of a smile curls his lips. I want to ask him what made him smile when he continues, whispering so quietly I can barely make out his words. “Life was simpler then.”
“Have you never left?”
He shakes his head, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair.
“College?” Assuming he went to the Christian school in town.
“Never went,” he admits.
“Do you not want to get out and explore?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice that anyone would want to stay here.
“Not particularly. This is my home,” he admits with a shrug.
“What about your family? They haven’t tried to marry you off yet?” Honestly, I have no clue where that came from.
“They passed away a long time ago.”
Welp, insert foot into mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs again, but the pain in his eyes can’t be masked. “Not like they approved of my tastes, anyway.”
A shiver runs up my spine the way his eyes hood and rake over me. His hand lifts, rubbing along his bottom lip. I jump as the flash of him bending me over the couch and stretching me open forces its way into my thoughts.
“How was your shower?” he asks, his voice sounding lower than normal.
I suddenly feel less clean than I did a moment ago. But this is Abraham. The only person who has truly treated me like a person in this town. “Fine,” I squeak.
“Are you okay?” he practically purrs, and I know I have to steer this conversation in a different direction.
“Mhm!” I say a little too quickly. “Would you like to watch a movie?”
