I nod, surprised by how comforting those gruff words actually feel.
Then the realisation of what just happened sinks in. I grin, a little dazed. “Thank you for the tablet.”
Soren just nods and grunts, but his arm stays around me.
???
An hour later I’m walking through the polished marble halls with a ridiculously overpriced milkshake in my hand, the cold cup already sweating against my palm. It’s strawberry and vanilla, thick and sweet, and honestly one of the best things I’ve tasted in a long time. I wouldn’t normally spend this much on a drink, but afterthe last shop we went into, Ineededsomething to cool me down.
We were in one of the menswear stores when Armen decided to be a complete menace. He’d managed to find a pair of bright pink boxers with the words “Handle with Care” printed across the ass in bold letters and was holding them up like a trophy.
Soren, standing right beside me, barely glanced over at me before saying, loud enough for half the damn shop to hear… “You need some more underwear. Preferably ones that are easier for me to rip off.”
I made a mortified squeak that came out way too loud. An older woman two racks away actually froze mid-reach for a tie, her eyes darting between Soren’s towering frame and my much smaller one with blatant curiosity. Clearly trying to figure out how that would even work.
Selina, thankfully, wasn’t nearby, but Armen lost it completely, laughing so hard he had to brace himself on a display table, tears forming in his eyes. My face went nuclear; I wanted the marble floor to open up and swallow me whole. Soren, of course, looked completely unbothered, like casually commenting on how easy it should be to rip my underwear off in public was totally acceptable. Social anxiety should be afraid ofhiminstead of the other way around.
So yeah… I was sweating after that. Selina had taken pity on me and steered us to a quiet little café inside the mall for a proper sit-down and a cold drink.
Now the place is busier. People keep shoving past me like I don’t exist, shoulders bumping mine, bags swinging too close. It feels pretty shit, honestly, invisible in the worst way.
Soren’s a couple of steps ahead of me, listening to whatever Armen is saying, his broad back cutting through the crowd like it’s nothing.
Then a man with earbuds in jogs past and shoulder-checks me hard. I gasp, nearly dropping the cup, and instinctively reach out with my free hand for Soren’s bigger one. I don’t even think about it, I just do it. I’ve never held his hand before, not once.
Soren stops mid-sentence and looks down at our hands… my small, slightly shaky one wrapped around his large, tattooed one like a child seeking safety. I expect him to let go, to ask what the hell I’m doing, maybe even pull away. Instead, he does the opposite. He loosens his fingers just enough to slide them between mine, properly intertwining them. His much larger hand engulfs mine completely, warm and steady. He stares at our joined hands for a second, his expression composed, almost unreadable. Then he gives my hand one firm, reassuring squeeze before carrying on his conversation with Armen like nothing happened.
My heart does something complicated in my chest. I keep walking, milkshake in one hand, Soren’s hand in the other, feeling small and safe and completely out of my depth all at once.
Chapter Fourteen
~ Gone ~
Soren
I’ve been holding Kit’s hand for a long while now. It feels strangely normal, almost instinctive. My large, tattooed fingers wrapped around his smaller, softer ones… a quiet way of keeping him safe in this sea of people. The contact calms something restless in my chest that I don’t care to examine too closely. I haven’t missed the stares from passers-by, though. A man like me… tall, heavily inked, clearly dangerous… holding hands with someone as small and delicate as Kit draws attention. Some of them probably assume he’s my son. The fifteen-year age gap and the sheer size difference between us would make it believable to most, but I don’t give a fuck what they think.
Whatsurprisesme more is howproudI feel of him. In the Apple Store, the very first place we went, his entire demeanour had collapsed within minutes. One salesman asking questions and offering options, and Kit had started stammering, sweating, and shaking. I hated seeing it. Not because it made him look weak, but because it botheredme on a deeper level; I didn’t want him to feel like that. He’s been gradually getting better as time went on.
We just left Harrods, where Kit had gotten curious and dragged me inside. He went pale at the price tags and refused to let me buy him anything. I’d laughed at first, then caught myself and let him pull me around like I was some oversized, dangerous pet on a leash.
Kit lets go of my hand and I grunt in displeasure, immediately grabbing it again, threading our fingers back together.
He laughs softly, cheeks flushing pink. “I need the toilet.”
I don’t like public restrooms, even in a place this exclusive. “You can wait until we get home.”
Kit frowns. “Soren, that’s half an hour away. Maybe more, depending on traffic.”
I huff, knowing he’s right. Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Fine.”
I start dragging him toward the bathrooms, Selina and Armen falling in close behind us without needing to be told.
When we reach the wide hallway leading down to the facilities, I nod at them. “Wait here.”
They both nod and take up positions on either side of the entrance like silent sentinels.
Kit laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “You don’t need to come in with me.”
