Page 29 of Silas

“Sausage or bacon?”

“Bacon?”

“You sure about that?” I tease. “You don’t sound sure.”

She bites her lower lip, almost smiling. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Ever dip it in syrup?” She shakes her head, so I snag my plate with the waffles, dip the bacon in the pool of maple syrup, and feed it to her.

Her eyes widen. “Mmm. That’s wonderful.”

Syrup drips down her chin—before I can think about it, I’m wiping at it with my thumb, causing her to suck in a terrified breath, shying away.

I freeze. “Sorry—I’m sorry. Shit. I’m sorry.” I pop my thumb in my mouth and lick away the sweet droplet of syrup.

“That…” she blinks at me. “That was on my face.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “Yeah?”

“You…you ate it.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re…feeding me.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with you, Naomi. So, I’m just…” Another shrug. “I don’t know.”

She’s so beautiful—the angles and planes of her face, the curve of her jawline and plump lips with the perfect Cupid’s Bow, those deep quicksilver eyes.

I use the fork to cut a bite of waffle and put it to her lips. She accepts it, eyes closing as she chews, licks her lips. Keeping movements slow and careful, I feed her bites of everything. I watch her closely, and when her eyes fix on something on the plates, I give her that—a wedge of apple, a slice of orange, a strawberry, and some blueberries; a bite of bagel smeared liberally with cream cheese.

She eats a shocking amount of food. Then, when I have a bite of waffle in motion toward her mouth, she touches my wrist with two fingers. “I’m full.”

I eat the bite, gesturing at both nearly empty plates. “Guess you were hungry, huh?”

She blinks rapidly. “I ateallthat?” Her eyes go to me, to plates, and then well with tears as she goes perfectly, utterly still. “I’m sorry,” she breathes, voice shaking. “I’m sorry.”

I set the fork down and pivot to face her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down. Take a breath. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

She shakes all over. “I ate all your food. I’m selfish.” A tear trickles down her cheek, squeezed out of her tightly shut eyes. “I’m sorry, Silas.”

I want to take her in my arms. I don’t. Moving slowly, telegraphing my intentions as clearly as possible, I wipe the lone tear away. “None of that, now,” I say, keeping my voice as gentle as it can be. “You’re fine.” I wipe another tear away. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

She opens them, gingerly; they’re silver stained wet, like fresh concrete after a hard rain.

“Do I seem upset to you?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No s—no.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not.” I take a bite of bacon. “There’s all the food I can eat down in the lobby. All I gotta do is go get more.”

“But…” she trails off, letting out a sigh. “Why did you feed me like that, Silas?”

“You want the truth?” I ask, after finishing the bagel.