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He set the plate he was holding on the table near the wall and rose to his full height.
Damn, he was huge.
The man scratched a spot on the side of his nose with the tip of his middle finger. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” I scoffed. “Don’t worry about the fact that you look like you got in a fight with a rabid cat? What the hell happened?”
His lips worked as he looked away. I crossed my arms over my chest, and the movement drew his attention back to me. “Wasn’t a cat I got in a fight with.”
“What was it then?”
He ran his tongue over his teeth, then did this little movement with his chin. Like he was using it to point at the culprit.
Except, he was pointing it at me.
My eyes widened and I stumbled back a step. “I did that?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He pulled out a chair at the table and motioned toward it before stepping back. “Sit. Eat.”
He didn’t see the look on my face as he turned his back on me and went to the stove. I’m not sure what he would have seen. Exasperation? Confusion?
Guilt. Definitely guilt.
One more thing to add to the list.
I hadn’t moved by the time he turned around again. He set another plate at the table, then pulled out another chair, tugging it away from the one he’d told me to take. Like he didn’t want to sit close to the girl who’d shredded his face.
“It’s gettin’ cold.” He didn’t take his own seat, not until I finally sat in mine. I shifted farther away from him, wanting to curl around the heavy ball that sat in my gut.
“I’m sorry.” It was only a whisper. I couldn’t make it louder.
But Lee heard. He dropped his fork to his plate and turned a look on me that had me wanting to whither in my place. “Not your fault.”
“Not my fault?” That heavy ball burned as he picked up his fork and speared a potato before shoving it in his mouth. “How can you say that?
He took his time chewing, staring at me as he did. His silence made me clench my fists until my nails pressed hard into my flesh. It had me flattening my lips to keep them from curling as my blood heated in my veins.
“You didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“But I did.”
“You were aslee—”
I slammed my palm against the table. “But I did!”
Lee set his fork down and sat back in his chair. I couldn’t look at him. The red gashes across his cheeks were proof that there was no good left in me. I couldn’t even sleep without hurting someone. I reached for my fork, stabbing at the food on my plate before even looking at what was there.
Fried potatoes and huge chunks of sausage filled the white ceramic. It looked delicious. Smelled better than anything I’d had in weeks.
He’d made it for me.
He’d let me stay in his house. He’d stayed by my side, letting me tear his face to shreds, only to turn around and tell me it wasn’t my fault.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I covered my face with my free hand as I dropped my fork to the table with a clatter that shook the room. I went to bring that hand to my face, only to find myself caught.
“Kelly.” His voice, though quiet, made me feel like I’d been standing next to a bass drum as someone slammed a mallet into its head. I forced myself to look at him—to where he held my hand in his giant mitt.
“Why?” It came out on a sob. “Why would you do that?”
