Gypsy

Chapter 17

·Adam·

"It's hard to act happy when you're walking around with a broken heart."

I step into the room behind Zara, and Micah's eyes flit to mine. I give him an angry scowl. My personal life is no one's business but my own, and it irritates me that he would share it with Zara, or anyone else. That may be a uneven playing field, considering what happened last night, but that had been an accident: this was intentional. And that particular part of my life, she doesn't need to know.

Micah leans back in his seat and further away from me. I watch as Zara slowly turns in hers. She looks up at me with wide eyes, as if I've just caught her stealing the silverware or hot wiring my car. I'm angry, but not at her. I look away then cross to the table, picking up my cup then moving to the counter for a refill. When I return and sit down, neither of them look at me.

My previous good mood has evaporated.

We sit in uncomfortable silence until a soft shuffling gains our attention. Andre eases into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and Zara's attention snaps to him. The relief that washes over her features is impossible to ignore.

"Morning, Grimm," she says softly. His responding grin turns into a yawn as he moves to the table then sits down between Micah and Zara.

"Morning." He looks up at me, but only briefly, before looking away.

"Hungry, sport?" Micah asks.

Andre's eyes flit to meet Zara's and she gives him an encouraging nod. After the exchange, he looks back at Micah.

"Starving."

There is evident relief in Micah's eyes as he hops up then sets about the room to serve our young guest. I look to Andre and offer what I hope is a friendly smile, though given my current mood I'm not sure how successful I am.

"Sleep good, Andre?" I ask, trying to put more enthusiasm behind the question than I actually feel.

"Like the dead!" His smile is as bright as I've ever seen it when he answers.

And now my own smile feels a little more genuine. I glance up to see Maddox standing in the doorway, his eyes traveling over us all. When his gaze finally meets mine, he gives me a subtle nod and I do the same. It doesn't seem like he's one for idle chitchat, which I can certainly get behind this morning. I think there's been more than enough of that in here already.

"Coffee?" I offer.

"Sounds good." He moves to the seat Micah had vacated and sits down, then runs a calloused hand through his hair. I get up, fix him a cup, then slide it across the table to him.

"Thanks." He picks it up then holds it near his face, closes his eyes and inhales the steam rising from the hot drink inside. The corner of his mouth lifts almost too little to see, and I have to look away. 

I know where our guests come from now, and where they'll be going once they leave. Have I ever considered what that really means? Judging how Maddox's reaction to a simple cup of black coffee makes me feel, I know that I haven't. I suddenly feel guilty for my previous biased beliefs of Southside, and those who call it home. Seems I'm not above being prejudiced.

"So, why'd Zara call you Grimm?" Micah asks as he sets a plate in front of Andre. 

The boy looks up at him, shrugs his shoulders, then looks back down at his breakfast. He doesn't answer, but I think I know. Just as Zara had said in so many words that I can't call her Gypsy, we can't call him Grimm. That is something between them, something secret, possibly sacred in its own way.