Page 3 of Fragile Lives

I shut my mouth before I yell at him and go back to watching the river. This year it might freeze even earlier since the temperature is going psycho these days.

“I think—” I swallow before continuing, “I think my brother had the same thoughts at one point in his life.” I decide to share one of my deepest fears, hoping it will help him. “When he came back from the service…” I hear his breath hitch, and I don’t dare to look at him. “He was…bad.” The cold air bites my nose, making me sniffle. “Angry with the world and…with everything really.”

I let myself drift away for a second, back to the time Alex returned from the Navy and was like a walking grenade witha short fuse. “He blamed himself for a lot of things. Thought that no one loved him, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. I don’t know what we would have done if he chose that path. I just—” I cut myself off before I spill too much. My eyes water and I blink the moisture away. “What I’m trying to say is that there is always someone who will be devastated if something happens to you.” It’s the first time since the beginning of my speech that I dare to look at him.

His eyes are trained on my face. “What if not everyone has that someone?”

“Everyone does.”

“But what if—”

“Everyone does,” I cut him off, my voice firm. “It doesn’t have to be family, but you’ve changedsomeone’slife for the better. There is always someone out there.” I hold his eyes, communicating my truth to him. “Always. Even if you don’t know it.”

The corners of his lips dip down, aging his face a few years. His neck moves in a rough swallow, and I notice the tattoos on his neck as the tail of something on the side of it—a dragon, maybe—shifts with the movement.

“Do you understand?” I press.

He swallows again and nods silently.

“Good.” I nod to myself and bite the inside of my cheek, thinking over the situation.

“What’s your name?” he asks carefully.

“Leila. Yours?”

He watches me before answering as if he can’t decide if he wants to share. “Stephan.”

“Glad to meet you, Stephan,” I say and offer him my hand.

He eyes it cynically as if it’ll grow a mouth and bite him, but right before I drop it, he envelopes it in his huge palm. My hand totally disappears in his, another indication of the differencein our sizes, being here alone with him. Strangely, I don’t feel fearful. Well, I don’t feel fearofhim, but I doforhim.

“You’re freezing,” he says as he brings the other hand to wrap around the one he’s still holding.

“It’s cold.” I swallow. “How come you’re not cold?” In fact, it’s the opposite—his palm is on fire, and he doesn’t even have a jacket on.

“I don’t feel cold much.” He drops my hand and nods toward my running sedan, “Go back to your car.”

“No.” I shake my head stubbornly. “Only if I give you a ride.” My teeth chatter as I feel the cold air biting my cheeks, nose, and neck, slipping under my jacket.

“I don’t need a ride. I’m fine.” He steps back.

“Then, I’ll stay.” I turn to the river and lean on the rails again, trying to hide deeper in my coat.

A loud sigh nearly makes me smile. Nearly.

“Fine. Let’s go.” He rolls his eyes to the point where they might not come back, grabs my hand, and starts walking, dragging me along.

I’m trying to suppress my laughter at how easy it was to make him give up, but a cackle escapes me. Then another. And then I can’t help but laugh full force. He stops, drops my hand, and turns to me.

“What’s so funny?” His voice is biting.

“Nothing,” I say but keep cackling.

“I like a good laugh. But I like to be the one you’re laughing with, not at.” The corners of his eyes crinkle as I laugh even harder. I don’t even know what I’m laughing about at this point. I think it might be a release of pent-up adrenaline and fear.

Bending over, I place my hands on my knees. “I’m sorry,” I say breathlessly as I finally straighten. “I don’t know what came over me.” I try to take a few deep breaths when I notice his intense stare. A little unsettling.

A lot exciting.