Page 25 of Shattered

“Define private.”

“Anywhere I don’t explicitly invite you!”

“So the bathroom is…?”

“SHARED UNDER DURESS!”

This time he actually did smile. His lips curving in a way I hadn’t seen before and if I wasn’t so pissed, I’d find it striking.

I grabbed my crutches and headed for my bedroom.

“I’m going to bed. Don’t touch anything else.”

“Sleep well, Delia.”

His voice was warm. I slammed the door harder than I would have, inhaling deeply, I sat on my bed, trying to process what had just happened.

Axel Irving was in my living room. His toiletries were arranged in my bathroom.

And Daniel had made it sound like I was being unreasonable for objecting.

I lay down, pulled the covers over my head, and tried not to think about it. About the way he’d moved through my space. Theapartment felt different with him in it. Less empty. Less like a cave.

This was temporary, I reminded myself. Just until I got back on my feet. Just until I figured out who I was without Jake.

I could survive a few weeks of Axel Irving.

Probably.

CHAPTER 6

Delia

One weekof living with Axel Irving, and I was actively contemplating homicide.

Not because he was terrible—that would've been easier. No, Axel Irving was infuriatingly perfect at inserting himself into every corner of my life.

I woke up to find he'd cleaned my entire apartment. Not tidied. Cleaned.

As in dishes washed, floor swept, windows wiped, every surface gleaming like we were expecting a photo shoot for Better Homes and Gardens. But the real crime—the actual violation—was my art corner.

My beautiful, chaotic, perfectly-organized-in-my-own-way art corner had been transformed into something out of a Container Store catalog. Every brush lined up by size. Every paint tube arranged by color family. My reference photos sorted into neat stacks instead of the creative sprawl I'd cultivated.

I stood in the doorway staring at what used to be my space, now edited by Axel Irving’s thoroughness, and felt something hot and sharp rise in my chest.

“What did you do?” I tried to keep my voice level.

Axel looked up from his laptop at the kitchen table, coffee in hand, looking completely at ease. “Good morning. I had time between meetings so I tidied up.”

“I didn’t ask you to clean.”

“I know. But it needed doing.”

“I would have done it myself.”

“Would you have?” A simple question, but it sent my blood roaring.

“Yes! Eventually!” I grabbed my jacket, suddenly needing to be anywhere but here. My ankle was healing—I’d graduated from crutches to just the walking boot yesterday, and the doctor had said I was recovering faster than expected. Still not supposed to do anything strenuous, but at least I could move without looking like a wounded penguin.