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“Take-out.”
“Kastle.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I tug harder on his wrist. Enough to say I’m not letting this drop. “That’s not an option.”
His mom called me. Which means something bad happened. Something to remind him that those jerks only see him as a publicity stunt.
Not a person.
An amazing, strong, kind-hearted person who deserves all their love.
Who made me fall in love with him.
“What is it?” I push.
He twists his hands around. Slips his fingers in mine so they’re locked. His skin is tan, but it’s still a much lighter shade than mine. Still so different. He slants me an I’m so exhausted I just want to be with you look. “Give me a minute, Kae.”
“Kastle…” I feel bad for pushing. I do.
I always do.
I don’t want to harp on him so badly that he no longer finds peace in me. But I can’t keep going like this. He’s always running to me, and I’m always absorbing his pain without getting one opportunity to ease it. Properly. Not just surface-level with Disney movie binges and ice cream.
I want him to share the things that hurt him. Just like when we were kids, I might not be able to understand it, but I can hold it in my hands. I can ease the burden. Just a little.
He leads me to the kitchen. Lets my hand go.
I mourn the loss with a frown.
He dips into my fridge. Raises a brow drink?
I nod.
He pours a glass of water. Hands it to me.
Our fingers brush and it shocks me as I accept the glass. My hand trembles and I wrap it tightly around the base.
Kastle dives back into the fridge. I know what he’s reaching for. The beer to the right. I only keep liquor here for him. I don’t drink. Not my thing.
My eyes fall on his back as he grabs the bottle. The suit barely scrunches as he moves. The black sleeves capture the light. He looks buttoned up. No-nonsense.
I like that look.
I like it when he’s in a T-shirt and cargoes too.
Or cargoes and no T-shirt.
So I can see the Chinese symbols on his chest.
The tattoo sleeve that stops just below a sensible polo.
Just a smidge.
A peek.
Not that bold.
