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Cullen goes still, his face muscles tightening. I wonder if I’ve offended him by offering food. But then… didn’t he drive all the way to my food stall to eat what I cooked?
“Do you not want to stay and eat?” I ask. “Or do you… I mean, I can make it to go and you can share it with Jenna.”
The words burn, but I’m an adult and I can’t afford to be petty when someone helps me out. A plate for him and Jenna is a drop in the bucket compared to him driving me to the hospital,paying for my hospital room, and helping bring our food stall equipment up to my apartment.
But it’s a start. I don’t like owing anyone anything.
Cullen lifts his gaze to the ceiling as if I’m a frustrating programming problem and he has no idea how to solve it.
“Nardi.” His tone is part growl, part grunt and I instinctively want to inch away from him. “You…” He snaps his mouth shut.
“I what?”
He shakes his head, saying nothing.
Again with the silence. He held his words back in the hospital room and now he’s doing it here. It’s driving me up the wall. What does he have against communication?
“What?” I explode. “What do you want from me? Just say it?”
“I want you to stop being so damn stubborn and let me take care of you.”
Okay, this is good. Arguing I can handle. When Cullen looks at me with those silver eyes going all soft, I can’t take it. I’d much rather fight.
“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t need or want to be taken care of. I built a life completely on my own, away from my family and friends in Belize. I pulled myself from the bottom by working hard and I’ve come so far that I can even turn around and pull my brother up along with me.”
“That’s great. That’s really great, Nardi. I admire you for it. But being so good at struggling alone isn’t the win you think it is. I know because I’ve been there. Hell, I’mstillthere. But looking at you makes me realize how ridiculous I was. At some point, we have to admit to needing a hand.”
“Whose hand do I need?Yours?”
“Yeah. Mine, for starters.”
“It’s funny. That hand you’re offering was protecting someonefromme today.”
He leans back. “What?”
“You’re not fooling anyone, Cullen. I knowexactlywhat you think of me. Whether this little routine is because you feel sorry for me or because you feel responsible for Josiah, I don’t need it. Okay? I don’t need any of it.” I whirl around.
His eyes are hard. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to warm up some food. You’re going to eat it so you don’t faint and crack your head on your way down the stairs. And then you’re going to drive home, delete my number and never see or speak to me again.”
His footsteps pound behind me and a second later, I’m being tugged toward the kitchen.
“Why are you so stubborn?” I rant.
“I could say the same about you,” Cullen responds dryly. Face a stony mask, he pulls out a chair around the small table and gently pushes me into it.
“Where’s the food you want warmed up? In the fridge?” he growls.
I try to gauge his mood, studying his tense facial muscles. This conversation makes zero sense. “Why do you want to know?”
“You obviously don’t want takeout, so direct me from here.” He yanks the fridge open and my condiments clatter against one another. “Which one of these dishes?”
My heart jackhammers against my ribs. Why isn’t he playing this game right? We’re supposed to shout at each other and then he’s supposed to angrily storm out. He isn’t supposed tostay. He isn’t supposed to keep looking out for me.
How can I win this when he’s changing the rules without permission?
I fold my arms over my chest, protesting with my silence.