Page 9 of Easy

He finishes stacking the sandwich, grabs a can of soda from the fridge, and walks toward me with a towering plate of food. “You’re not? I thought for sure that you’d be the odd duck out of the two of us?” He hands me the mini buffet piled on the plate and then leans against the wall oppositeme.

“Why’s that?” I take a bite of the monster sandwich. It’s not until after I’ve swallowed that I realize I would have never taken food from a stranger under normal circumstances. He could have poisoned me, put a shiv in the bread, or done any number of things to harmme.

Growing up in New York does things to a girl. The women down here don’t think like that. They don’t naturally distrust people to the same extent. Yeah, they look under the stall door in the ladies’ room at a gas station, but the assumed animosity and distrust of other people aren't there. I feel foolish doubting him. Why would he save me, help me, and then poison me? Maybe I am mental.

He lifts a hand toward me. “Well, look at you. The Crayola hair and the piercings. I bet you have a tattoo hidden somewhere as well.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “What does it say? A poem is my guess.”

I frown as I take another bite and chomp, oddly unself-conscious in the moment. “It’s not apoem.”

A beautiful smirk. He unfolds his arms, slipping his hands into his pockets. “So a quote, then? Something that justifies your actions while conveying something you strive toward. Let me think. What could itbe?”

I don’t tell him he’s right. There’s no way he’ll see the tat anyway. I crunch on a pickle and offer him the other. “Seriously, take it. Eat something. I feel weird eating alone.” It’s the truth.

He watches me carefully before taking the pickle from my hand. Our fingertips touch for a moment and a warm jolt races up my arm. It’s like static, almost. Not a hot jolt of lightening, but a warm, steady surge of something. My brain isn’t working. I blink and touch my head with my forefinger and thumb, squeezing my temples.

“Headache?”

I nod. “Yeah, it’s not thatbad.”

“Finish eating and try to lie down for a while. Nothing will hurt you while I’m here. And you know you’re in Texas now. If that asshole finds you and takes a step on your property, you have every right to shoot his ass.” Chase is serious and he assumes I have a distaste of pain, of weapons, and wouldn’t doit.

The truth is I’ve done so much worse, and without justification.

“I mean it,” he pauses again and laughs. “I keep going to say your name, but you still haven’t toldme.”

I don’t want to lie to him. There’s something about him that warns me not to do it. I stand and take a step toward him. “I don’t want to talk anymore tonight.”

The man is a breath away. His gaze lingers on mine as he breathes. Each pull of air fills his lungs, expanding his chest so that he’s a fraction of a centimeter from touching me. I can feel his warmth, his concern. He wants to save me, but no one can. I’ve done this to myself and once everything catches up with me, my life is over. I never told Lizzie, because I could barely admit it to myself, but I’m not going back home. My life ended that night. There’s no going back and the future that lies ahead is bleak and unforgiving.

The solitude of it scares me. Maybe that’s why I ask, otherwise, I don’t know what possesses me to suggest it. “Will you hold me for a while? I’m still shivering a little.”

Chase swallows so hard I can see it in his throat. The Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he silently nods. I slip my hand in his, shut the front door as we pass by, and stop before the ladder.

I drop his hand and look back at him. “You don’t have to—I feel bad asking. You’ve already done enough. More than I deserve.”

“Kindness is something to spread. It’s not anything owed or required. I never expected to end the night in your bed. In fact, I shouldn’t go up there.” His brow is wrinkled and his lips press together tightly.

I nod tightly and swallow hard before forcing a smile. “I understand.” As I turn away from him and grab the lower rung, I feel his hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t think you do. You seem to think the world is tit for tat. It’s not. If I don’t show you that, then who will? It’s not that I think you should be alone tonight. Under difference circumstances, I’d—”

I hold onto the rung, staring at the metal bar in my hands. “You’dwhat?”

“I’d jump at the chance to sleep with you. You’re my type, Weird Girl. I think you’re incredible, brave, and a little jaded. But you’re not so bitter you can’t laugh, not yet. I seeyou.”

A shiver travels up my arms but it has nothing to do with shock this time. Staring at the rung, I say softly, “Bree. My name is Bree.” I can’t tell him who I really am, but I can tell him the name I’ve been going by downhere.

I swear that I can hear him smile behind me. “Thank you, Bree. Maybe one day I’ll discover your whole name, the middle one, too.”

Smiling at the rungs, I nod. “Maybe.” Glancing over my shoulder, I meet his gaze, adding with a playful smirk, “Maybenot.”