But we aren’t different people. This isn’t another world. This is the life we are dealt, and unfortunately, we met at a piss poor time.
“How are you feeling? You okay?” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, unable to stop myself from touching the silky chocolate strands. Now that the matted pieces are gone, I’ve never seen something that looks so soft. I want to bury my hands in the luscious locks until she falls asleep.
God, this cannot be good for either of us. I have to stop thinking of her like I do.
“I’m okay. Minus the nightmare, I feel better than I have in a really long time. I’m hungry,” she states, lowering her hand to her stomach as it grumbles.
I laugh from the loud sound. For being so tiny, her stomach has the ability to sound like a grown fucking bear.
“Oh my God, that’s so embarrassing.”
“No, it’s good. It’s good you have an appetite, but before we go out there, you need to know the girls and guys are out there. Are you okay with that?”
“You’ll be there, right?” she asks, biting her lip.
That fucking sweet, innocent, pink lip that is making me want things I’m not allowed to want. I’m going to hell.
It’s official. I’m driving the damn car in the flames of Satan. Front and center.
If
I keep my thoughts to myself, my wants, then it’s fine. I don’t have to show her that I’m starting to think of her more than just some girl I met in the woods. So many years of being dead on the inside, so many chances for a woman to wake me up like Jolie has in a matter of days.
Twenty years of being dormant and all it took was three days to bring me back to life.
What is it about Jolie?
It’s driving me insane.
“I’ll be there. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” she says. “I think last night I was tired and—”
“No need for excuses, Jolie. I understand. In this house, there’s nightmares between everyone. There’s no judgment here.”
She swings her legs over the bed and stretches her arms above her head. The shirt she’s wearing rides up her side, and the pale flesh teases my eyes. I rip my gaze away so I’m not intruding on her privacy and her body. She stands and sways, and I catch her before she falls. “Woah,” she mumbles.
“You need to eat. I’m not a doctor, but I am an army medic. You’re at least fifteen pounds underweight. Do want me to call a doctor to give you an exam? It’s probably what’s best.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she agrees.
I lift her into my arms, not wanting to risk her passing out as she walks. She lays her head against my chest, and it’s a touch I’ve become too familiar with, too soon. I don’t want to say she was meant for me, but damn it, it’s what it feels like.
But Annabeth was meant for me, and I’ve only ever felt this protective over her.
“The house is pretty, very clean and modern,” she says. “You must be rich.”
“Um, yeah, we are. It’s a collective. We all share a bank account. The jobs we do pay well.” I don’t want to talk about finances anymore. It’s awkward because I don’t think she’s used to having money with how she grew up. I don’t want it to seem like I’m rubbing it in her face.
I turn the corner to the kitchen to see Julia preparing pancakes and sausage. If Heaven could, he’d eat the plate.
“Smells good,” Jolie groans in a way that my lack-of-sex mind twists into a sound that has my heart jumping in my chest.
“Well, good morning,” Heaven greets her with syrup dripping down his chin. “I like your hair. It looks good.”
“Thank you,” she says with hesitation.
I place her on the barstool and grab a plate and pile it with five pancakes and four sausages. I slide the plate in front of her and prepare her a cup of coffee next.