“Not the world. Just mine.”
The silence stretches, and his expression becomes stricken. My stomach turns over, and I reach for him, nearly jettisoning the tray in my haste. “No,” I say quickly. His sad face is making me feel sick and shaky again. “I was being snarky. I didn’t mean it.”
He swallows. “It’s the truth, though. It’s what you really think.”
“No, it isn’t. I believe I told you many years ago that I make my own mistakes. You may have been a complete shithead in the past, but you’re sort of my shithead. Like carrying purgatory around on my back.” I give a sigh. “Be strong, Xavier.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, please stop talking.” He steps away, looking a little easier as if we’ve cleared the air a tiny bit. “I’m going into the village to pick up some photography supplies from the post office. Do you want anything?”
I pick up a piece of bacon as gingerly as if it were an unexploded bomb. I take a bite and just manage not to groan. It tastessogood. Before I can stop myself, I spear a potato and put it in my mouth. This time, I do let out a groan. When I look up, he’s watching me and smiling, and I point my fork at him. “Shut up.”
He starts to laugh and then sobers. “So, do you want anything?”
I look around helplessly. “I don’t have any clothes, do I?”
“I put the stuff you were wearing on the chair over there, and Dean went out and bought you a lot of clothes.”
“Oh yeah. I remember now. Well, I should be okay. He’s pretty thorough when it comes to that.” I shrug. “Some books, please. If I am to be stuck here with you, I’ll need something to mitigate your appalling personality.”
His eyes lighten even more. It’s a mystery to me why this man loves snark and sass so much. Then he touches his forehead in a salute. “Okay. Some books.”
“Will they have them here?”
“It’s Scotland. Not a village in the Middle Ages.” He hesitates, looking around. “Don’t have a shower yet. I want to be there when you do.”
“Pervert.”
He snorts. “In case you fall over. Don’t go wandering around. Just stay in bed today and rest and get your strength back.” He tsks. “Maybe I shouldn’t leave you.”
“Reuben?” He looks up. “I’ll be fine. I was cleared by the hospital.”
“Yes, but you’re still not yourself even if your sarcasm has made an early comeback.” He crosses himself. “Thank you for that, Baby Jesus.”
I make a shooing motion. “Off you trot. Leave me to my prison.”
He grins, and it’s wide and white and makes my heart hurt. “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll get some groceries too. Anything you want to eat?”
I consider that. “My grandmother always made tomato soup when I was ill.”
“Was it flavoured with the tears of her disappointment?”
I snort. “Only onreallyspecial occasions.” I consider him. “You never approved of her.”
“I didn’t approve of the way she raised you to believe there was something wrong with you.” He shrugs. “I’ve waved a white flag with her anyway.”
I put my fork down, realising in horror that I’ve eaten half the breakfast. “What do you mean?”
“I realised that she does love you in her own way. She just struggles to show it.”
“How do you know that?” He shrugs, not giving me an answer, so I shoot him a sly smile. “You can’t blame her. I amverylovable. My charm works on most people.”
“You are, and it does.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t bother with sentiment.”
“You’re the boss.”
I gesture at myself. “Which is patently untrue.” I look steadily at him. “Just know that I may have eaten this breakfast meant for an entire army, and come to the middle of nowhere with you?—”
