Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(71)

He stood up and reached for my wrist, squeezing. I yanked my arm quickly. I couldn’t bear his touch right now. Not when it hurt this much. His eyes widened, his broad shoulders sagged a bit.

“I’m sorry. Had this happened under different circumstances—”

“Stop apologizing. It’s fine,” I said, interrupting him. “Been there, done that, bought the shirt.”

“That’s not funny, Nicole,” he said, his face serious. I dropped my head, unwilling to look at him anymore.

“I’ve learned to deflect.”

Despite how weak I felt, I started walking toward the door, and he followed, holding me by the shoulders possibly when he saw me sway a little. I tilted my face to look at him, and cursed the stir in my heart when I realized our faces were so close.

“Please don’t touch me,” I whispered.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he whispered back, dropping his forehead to the back of my shoulder.

“You’ll learn.”

I left his office, heard him follow behind me, and when I reached Marcus, I could barely keep my legs moving. I practically threw my arms out for him to catch me. Thank God he did.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, looking over my shoulder.

I turned my head and saw Victor standing in the hall with his hands in his pockets looking as defeated as I’d ever seen him. I tried to smile, tried to reassure him that he was doing the right thing, but I couldn’t find the energy to do it. I let Marcus lead me away, back to the car, and drive me home. On my way there, I got a call from Meire and answered straight away, which I rarely did.

“I saw the pictures,” she said upon my answering. “Are you crying?”

“No,” I sniffled. “I’m sick.”

“Come stay over here. You shouldn’t be by yourself right now.”

“Okay,” I said, and agreed to drive to their house later on, after I’d showered and napped on my bed. I needed to be by myself for a little while. Needed time to process everything that had happened earlier.

Later that night, when darkness had fallen over, there was loud knocking on my door that startled me awake. Fuck. Shit. I was supposed to go to my dad’s. I checked my phone and saw the missed calls from Meire and Dad as I walked to the door and opened it. Victor was standing on the other side dressed in jeans, a Dodgers cap, and a black hoodie. I knew it was him because I knew him, but you could barely make out his face with that thing over his head.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice a croaked whisper. It was getting worse.

He held up a bag. “Soup.”

I closed my eyes and stepped back so he could walk in.

“Didn’t we break up? Did I imagine that?” I asked, closing the door and following him down the hall.

Bonnie jumped on her back legs and wagged her tail when she saw him. Stupid dog. Hadn’t I spent an hour crying over him to her? Why was she being nice to him?

“Get comfortable while I heat this up,” he said, rounding my kitchen counter and tearing the bag open.

I looked at him for a long moment, studied his face now he’d taken the hood off: the planes of his chiseled jaw, the light scruff, the light brown hair curling under the baseball cap, those hazel eyes that made my knees go weak, his long fingers as he popped the lid on the plastic container. Each second that passed made my heart hurt a little more. I turned around and left the kitchen, opting to sit in the living room and switch on the TV. Maybe if I had a distraction I wouldn’t have to think about how over we were.

Victor returned with a bowl of soup and a glass of orange juice and sat beside me. He put the juice and a napkin with two blue pills down on the coffee table and turned to face me. He was too close.

I could smell the scent of his body wash and shampoo.

So close.

I could see the lines of brown on his greenish eyes.

Too close.

I could practically taste his lips against mine. I swallowed and cringed at the pain, and when he lifted a spoonful of soup up for me to drink, my eyes widened.

“You can’t feed me,” I whispered. The dip in his brow, and the look in his eyes told me he was crestfallen.

“Please, Nic,” he whispered, a plea. I’d never heard him plead before. It made my chest squeeze, my eyes water.

“I can’t, Victor. It’s all or nothing, and you know it can’t be all.”

The spoon clinked against the bowl as he closed his eyes. “It can be,” he said, opening his eyes again, “just not right now.”

“I get it.”

“I really . . . this . . . it wasn’t just for fun,” he said.

“I know.” I swallowed. “But we still have to keep our distance. You being here isn’t helping anything.”

He nodded slowly. “I couldn’t just . . .” He sighed. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am, Victor. I’m okay. I’ll be okay, but you can’t be here. You can’t say no to me and tell me this isn’t good timing and then show up in my house with soup. I’m strong, but I still have feelings.”

Feelings that were overwhelming me.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, sighing. “I really am.”

“Thank you for the soup.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused, taking his cap off with one hand to run his hand through his hair. “I’m going to leave now.”