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She huffed out a breath, but she honestly wanted some food and was desperate enough to let him feed her.
It turned out to be far more intimate than she’d realized, though. She was reliant on him for every bite. He fed her steadily, even giving her sips of water and juice in between. It should have felt awkward. She barely knew this man. And for close to thirty-eight hours he’d had her locked up in his house.
It was probably because she was completely exhausted, but right now being taken care of was exactly what she needed.
Don’t get used to it.
He’s not yours.
She only got about halfway through the plate before she started to feel full.
Shaking her head, she sat back in her chair. She was feeling guilty that he hadn’t been able to eat because he was feeding her.
“You’ve still got half a plate to go, Pequeña,” he told her.
“I’m full. I think my tummy has shrunk.”
“You still need more.”
“But I might be sick.”
He grunted.
“And you should eat. Do you need help? Want me to feed you?” she asked.
“The day you have to feed me is the day they put me in the ground.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“What?”
“Well, if you’re going in the ground, then you’re likely dead. And I think there’s usually a bit of time between dying and being buried. So I wouldn’t be feeding you that morning and then burying you in the ground that afternoon.”
He stared at her, perplexed. “What?”
“Yeah. Even I don’t know what I was trying to say. I think I’m growing delirious. I just dreamed that you fed me breakfast. And I let you. Weird, huh?”
“Are you feeling all right?” He placed his hand over her forehead.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to do this stuff.”
“What stuff, mi Pequeña?” he asked in a tender voice.
“Nice stuff.”
“Nice stuff? You think this is nice?”
“Well, you’re making sure I eat. You care whether I vomit and stuff. And you felt my forehead.”
“And that’s nice?”
“Means you care whether I’m sick or not. No one has felt my forehead in ages. Not since Mama left.”
“Where did she go?”
“I dunno. I’m feeling tired. Can I have coffee now?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Pequeña.”
“Please. I’ve been a good girl.”
“No, you haven’t,” he replied as he ate his own breakfast.
Her lower lip dropped out, trembling. “I haven’t been good?”
His eyes widened comically. “What?”
“I haven’t been a good girl? I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t,” she agreed. “But you could have pretended. You could have told me I was a good girl. I ate the mushrooms.” She sniffled. She didn’t know why it was so important, but she needed to hear him tell her that she was a good girl.
“You did eat the mushrooms,” he soothed. “You’re right. That was excelente. You are a good girl.”
“Fucking right, I’m a good girl,” she said with a grunt. “I’m the bestest good girl of them all.”
“Is that supposed to make sense?”
“I dunno.” Her eyes drifted closed. So tired. Her body was heavy. She was in that place where she wasn’t actually asleep, but she wasn’t awake either. Then she suddenly realized something, energy racing through her.
“Oh no!” she yelled.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t . . . I can’t see!” she cried out, moving her hands around. “Everything has gone dark! What happened? What am I going to do?”
Someone grabbed her shoulders and she cried out.
“Pequeña, soy yo! It’s me. Alejandro! Relájate.”
“I can’t . . . I’m blind.”
“Listen to me.”
“I can’t!”
“You’re not blind. Open your eyes right now.”
“Oh.” She opened her eyes and looked around the dining room in bemusement. “Can we pretend that never happened?”
Were his lips twitching? They weren’t twitching, right?
She eyed him suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Of course not, Pequeña.” He sat back in his chair, holding a mug of coffee. She eyed it hungrily. “I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous of a mug of coffee.”
“What? Why would you be jealous of coffee? That’s strange,” she told him.
“Is it?”
It really was.
Almost as weird as thinking you were blind because your eyes were closed.
But in her defense, she was completely exhausted.
“You need a nap before we go,” he decided.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“Nap.”
“Yes, you can. There will still be time to go and get your things before I need to go out. Or I could get someone to go retrieve them. That way you wouldn’t have to leave the house.”
“No, I need to go. Only I know where they are,” she said urgently. “And they’ll be scared if someone else gets them.”
She didn’t want anyone else touching Roger or Snuggly.
“All right,” he soothed. “You can go get them. But you need a nap.”
“I told you, I can’t sleep without Roger and Snuggly. No matter how much I want to.”
19
A surprising surge of sympathy filled him.
Poor baby. She was so tired that her guard was slipping.
