Unbreak My Heart(27)

Maybe he’s just adjusting to the time zone. “Jet lag, one. Holland, zero. I was down for the count as soon as I reached my apartment. Sorry I wasn’t around.”

“It’s no biggie. I get it.”

“What did you do last night? Pachinko parlor? Karaoke? Late-night clubbing?” I ask, tossing out ridiculous options.

He winces and looks away, muttering, “Stayed at the apartment. Looked through some stuff.”

“What did you find, oh treasure hunter?” I ask curiously, wondering if he unearthed some memento of Ian’s that pierced his heart. It can’t have been easy being alone in that place for the first time. I would have offered to stay with him, but I’m not sure that would have truly helped either one of us. Close quarters would be far too tempting for me.

He takes his time answering, the words coming out sharper, bordering on suspicious. “Photos, letters, and pictures of you I found behind a framed photo of Kana. Three pictures of you, to be exact.”

I tilt my head, processing this news—news I don’t entirely like hearing. “Exact, indeed.” My hackles are raised, and I arch a brow. “And where were the photos taken?”

“In the park or something. Another was at karaoke.”

I furrow my brow, trying to remember those times. They feel vaguely familiar. “A park sounds like someplace I was once,” I tease, trying to diffuse the situation.

“What did you guys do together?” Andrew’s voice is strained, and his face is anguished now.

And I officially know why he’s off today, why his mood has been too even. He’s holding something in, and he’s thinking something he shouldn’t be thinking whatsoever.

A plume of righteous anger rises in me. I don’t let it burn me, but I won’t let him tread in these dangerous territories. Not only for his sake, but for mine too, because I won’t bear this burden. I hold up a hand. “Don’t go there.”

“Go where?”

I shake my head, keeping calm. Inside, I’m wound tight, because I know where his brain has traveled, and he’s so insanely wrong. “Be careful before you say anything.”

He licks his lips. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t know, but I think if you do go someplace dangerous, you’ll regret it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, like it hurts. “I’m sorry.”

The rawness in his voice hooks into me, and there’s a part of me that’s proud of him for not saying more. There’s a part that’s pissed, though, that he even let himself think the worst—of his brother and of me.

No wonder he looked guilty.

I soften. Slightly. “Why don’t you ask me about those times?”

He sighs heavily. “What did you do with Ian when he was here?”

The question is so needy, so honest, that I understand why he hurts. He wants to know his brother, and he wants to know me.

“I hung out with him and Kana. I loved your brother—don’t you get that?”

“I do get that. Trust me, I do.”

As he stares at the woman stirring the vat of soup, I catalog the features I know well: his cheekbones, his strong nose, his square jaw. His lips I love. “But do you want to know what we talked about?”

He turns to look at me. “What did you talk about?”

I point to him. “You.”

He smiles, a childlike wonder in his expression, a flicker of home-brewed happiness in his deep brown eyes. “Yeah?”

“I asked him about you. He told me stories of you. We talked about you. So before you start thinking stupid things, think better of your brother. Think better of me.” I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

“I do. I do think better of you, and of him. Sometimes I’m just a fucking mess.” He shrugs. “Forgive me?”

I smirk. “I forgave you when you had the guts to not say it.”

“Good. That’s good. Glad I shut my trap at the right moment.”

I reach for his arm, set my palm on it. It’s hard for me to not touch him. “He had a life here. He loved Kana. And I loved him—as a friend, and only ever as a friend. And we did things together. I don’t know why those pictures are behind the frame, but I know this: you were never far from his mind, or mine.”

“I’m an asshole.”

“Are you though?”

“Am I?”

I look him over, as if I’m appraising him. “I think you’re a step or two away from it. There’s a thin line between almost and asshole.”

He laughs. “I’d like to not cross that line.”

“You’re doing okay so far.”

He wipes his hand across his brow in relief. “Whew.”

The guy behind the counter asks Andrew if he wants more tea.

“That’d be great. Thanks, Mike.” Andrew turns to me and lowers his voice. “Mike mentioned my sister came to visit Ian. Neither one of them ever told me about it.”

I pat his arm and shoot him a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, neither one of them told me either.”

He laughs. “A little better.”

Mike slides him the tea. “Here you go.” He tips his chin to me. “Do you need anything else . . .?” He trails off like he’s waiting for my name.