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“You’re hurt,” he says, softer this time.
“I’m fine.” I go to pull a towel off the hanger but he beats me to it, wrapping me up and staring down at me.
“Talk to me, please.”
“I… I’m fine.”
His teeth grind together, his jaw working overtime as I shut him out.
But I can’t do this.
I can’t?—
“Red, look at me.” Elliot slides his big hand to my jaw and tips my face up to meet his. “What. Happened?”
“I-I… I broke the mirror.” The feeble lie spills out of me in a rush of breath.
“You broke the mirror.” His brow arches, his doubt swirling around us.
He sees through the half-truth, of course he does.
It’s Elliot. He sees everything.
But I can’t tell him what really happened.
I can’t.
Shame burns through me like acid.
“It was… an accident,” I whisper, unable to look him in the eye.
Elliot has always made me feel stripped bare. Understood and seen. But everything feels different now.
Now that my father is gone.
Now that I know Elliot doesn’t feel the same.
His jaw tics again but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he gently shoves me out of the bathroom into my room.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” he says gruffly.
“I… yeah,” I sigh. Because what else can I say?
Tension crackles around us as he grabs my All Hallows’ hoodie off the back of my chair and thrusts it toward me. “Can you manage?”
“I’m quite capable of dressing myself,” I snap.
His brow lifts again in that smug arrogant way of his.
I can’t blame him. I’m a mess, and he’s… he’s Elliot Eaton. He doesn’t lose control. Ever.
God, what must he think of me.
Then something occurs to me.
“Why aren’t you in Italy?”
“Something came up,” he replies.
