Hold me with your blood-stained hands. I'll show you mine in return. . . .
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The first time I felt scared was when my mom told me about my father - when she told me the whole truth - not the filtered one she had always told me when I was a child.
My mother did not cry. She did not even look sad. She looked...haunted. Her eyes were on the wall, unblinking, and when she was done, she walked out and ma hugged me when I began to sob.
That was the only time I saw Amanda Jenkins scared...till she saw me in the hospital after the accident.
My arm was broken and there was a giant gash on it. I got plastic surgery later when it healed because I just couldn't stand it - couldn't stand the reminder of what had happened.
I erased every bit of that night from my mind - or at least, tried to. But the night caught up with me, with days filled with fear and nights with nightmares - it was as if I was still in that car.
And that feeling was constant still...but it paused around him.
Everything paused around him.
I walked into the kitchen and he was already there, with Nino and Marco. They were talking and paused when they saw me.
Dante was half-naked for some reason. His hair was wet and he was wearing black sweats. Nino and Marco were dressed casually, their muscled bodies covered in a t-shirts and casual jeans. It was weird to see them in normal clothing. Both of them were too formal with their polite nods and cold questions.
"Good morning, Miss Jenkins," Nino and Marco said and then walked out of the kitchen, nodding at Dante once who didn't bother looking at them. His eyes had fallen on me as soon as I entered the kitchen and were yet to leave.
Dante stood. "Good morning, little blue." He walked closer, muscles flexing. My eyes fluttered over his tattoos. I felt my lower stomach tigheten. He took my hand and pressed a cup against my hand. "Coffee."
I set the cup aside. "I don't need it."
He nodded. "Breakfast?"
"I don't want it."
He walked away and sat back down on the stool. His breakfast was right in front of him. He ate silently.
I stayed where I was. "Can we talk without you losing your shit?"
"Only if you eat."
I sighed. "Okay." Of course, he figured out a way to make me eat. Who was surprised? This man had made Amanda Jenkins tolerate him. That woman barely tolerated me.
He made me more pancakes as I sat down. Soon, he was done and sat down on a plate in front of me, with a cup of warm coffee.
He sat down across from me and started eating. "After you're done eating, we will talk."
