Page 39 of The Fixer

“But the room—”

“Fuck the room.” She jerked at the sound of my voice. Her eyes whipped up to mine, but they weren’t full of the fear I was used to seeing when I snapped. They were dark chocolate swirls, the perfect contrast to her creamy skin. A delicious combo, and I was dying to take a taste.

I slid my thumb up her throat to the fleshy space beneath her jaw. I pressed, tipping her head up until her throat was exposed. Until all I had to do was lower my face and sink my teeth into her flesh.

Her hand fell like a butterfly upon my chest, the touch so light, so gentle, it sent shivers down my spine. “Do you always carry a gun?”

Stepping backward, I looked at where I’d laid my weapon on the floor. I pressed at the pressure in my chest, then went to it, picking it up and turning it over in my hand.

“More now than I used to.”

“In your past life?” The girl and that damn dimple. A sad smile tugged at her lips.

“I had…” I rubbed at my chest. “A friend.”

“Had?”

With a small nod, I turned and went back to the couch. Knelt down and put my gun back.

“Is there a story there you’d like to share?”

Kosta.

I swept my tongue across my lips, prodding at the corner of my mouth. I tried to stay as close to the truth as I felt I could. “He died in a break-in.” I rubbed again at my chest, and Eliza settled herself on the opposite end of the couch.

“You were close?”

“He knew me well.”

“But you didn’t know him?”

I shook my head. “Not as well as I should have.”

Eliza watched me, her elbow propped on the back of the couch, her head resting in her palm. “Why do you keep a gun hidden under your couch?”

“My friend, he…” I felt a heavy weight bear down upon me. I sucked in a deep breath to try to shake it loose. “He didn’t like guns. He had one, but he left it in the other room. By his bed. And one day, when he didn’t expect it, someone broke in and caught him unaware.”

I lifted a hand to my chest, and I pressed two fingers over my heart. “He was shot in the chest.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Eliza murmured. “It’s hard to lose someone to violence like that.”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. This girl was too good. Too sweet. She’d lost her mother to a murderer, her father to a heart attack. She’d lost her cat to poisoning. The break-ins were the icing on the cake. And yet, here she sat, asking after me. Telling me she was sorry when it should have been the other way around.

“It’s not always easy to empathize with someone. To put yourself in their shoes. We don’t walk the same paths, and that can make it hard to understand what they’re going through. But if you have that understanding, if you can make that connection, your chances at healing are great.”

“You would have loved him,” I whispered, not meaning to be so quiet but unable to make my voice stretch.

Kosta was one of the most caring people I’d ever met. He’d made it his life’s work to help lost souls, to help the abused and the broken, to help them heal and learn to love themselves. He’d followed Mateo’s brother, Yanny, halfway across the world, and had given immeasurable help to so many since he got here.

Shifting on the couch, I rested my hand upon the back. Across from me, Eliza’s hand shifted, too. A part of me wanted her to reach for me, the way she had at the coffee shop two days ago. A bigger part of me wanted to reach for her.

“Learning to trust again after a trauma like that can be monumental. Breaking that trust can set you back farther than you started.”

Eliza’s stomach growled and she clutched at her abdomen as her cheeks turned dark peach.

“You need to eat,” I told her, finally raising my gaze to find hers. The color in her cheeks flushed down her throat and into the V-neck of her shirt. “I won’t let you go, Eliza. I want to help you.”

“I don’t want to impose.”