out, palms up. “I’m not at all surprised you got into Harvard, all right? Just that you’ve chosen to be a pastry chef rather than the next big CEO or something.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I sighed. “It caused a lot of problems with Tom, the guy I was with during college. He didn’t understand it either.”
Henry was silent for a moment, and I looked up. “Tom?” he asked gently.
“Yes, we lived together for years and… well. It didn’t work out.”
He chewed his lip, then licked it. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s amazing you chose to do something you love. What does Tom do?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Figures,” he laughed, and I grinned too. I drained my coffee and was just considering a refill when he said, “You look tired.”
I cut him a glance. He stared at me, and I wondered if he meant tired from the accident and the cold last night or something else entirely. Either way, I had no response, and he seemed to know it. If it had been pity he’d been regarding me with, I would’ve found a tendril of annoyance or anger and grabbed it with both hands. Instead, the emotion in his eyes was warm understanding, like a first sunny day that carried actual heat after a long, long winter. It did, in that instant, dissolve the last armor I possessed against him.
When he said, “Let’s go find you some warmer clothes,” all I could do was nod and rise to my feet.
The cab of the Avalanche was still warm, and I shuddered my appreciation. Even Henry had donned another pair of gloves on the walk over from the restaurant.
“What else are you hiding in that coat?” I asked. “It’s got an endless supply of gloves and hats from what I’ve seen.”
“Best to be prepared.” He grinned and pulled the gloves off with his teeth.
“What are you, a boy scout?”
“Rather that than frozen.” He started the engine and added, “There’s a year-round gear store in Houghton I usually go to. It’s mostly gently used, but they have new things too.”
“A secondhand store?” I said before I could stop myself.
Henry looked unimpressed. “It’s where I get most of my winter stuff. I can find you a sports shop or something if you prefer.”
The “snob” was implied, and I quickly shook my head. “No, no.” I cracked a grin, the half-frozen, half-bruised skin on my face protesting. “You can take me to your thrift store.”
“It’s not a—” Henry rolled his eyes when he saw my face. “Shut up, you.”
By the time we reached the bridge, I regretted my decision not to bring along my medication. My cheekbone and jaw throbbed along with my heartbeat, and my nose stung like someone had just punched it, not to mention every time the car jolted, my lungs felt like they were being jabbed by a hot poker. Henry kept glancing over like he knew, but thankfully said nothing so I could concentrate on keeping the waves of nausea down.
The sigh of relief when we pulled up in front of a huge store made him laugh a little, and he turned in his seat.
“Why don’t you write down what you need from the grocery store, and I’ll go get it while you buy some decent clothes.”
“I have decent clothes,” I said automatically to hide how very much I didn’t want to trundle through aisles pushing a cart.
“So that’s why half the stuff you’re wearing is mine?” The grin Henry gave me was slightly wicked; he had a point, and he knew it.
A search of the cab yielded a pencil and an empty envelope. Thinking quickly, I penned down what I needed from memory. “That’s about it,” I mumbled, sucking on the end of the pencil, spitting it out when I tasted the eraser. Henry put his fingers to my cheek, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Fingering the bruise there gently, he said, “You’re just as stubborn as I remember. It’s all right to be in pain, you know. No need to put on a brave face. Not for me.”
Eyes saucer-wide, I gaped at him. Nausea forgotten, I dropped the pencil and barely
“I know. I’m sorry.” I sighed. “It caused a lot of problems with Tom, the guy I was with during college. He didn’t understand it either.”
Henry was silent for a moment, and I looked up. “Tom?” he asked gently.
“Yes, we lived together for years and… well. It didn’t work out.”
He chewed his lip, then licked it. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s amazing you chose to do something you love. What does Tom do?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Figures,” he laughed, and I grinned too. I drained my coffee and was just considering a refill when he said, “You look tired.”
I cut him a glance. He stared at me, and I wondered if he meant tired from the accident and the cold last night or something else entirely. Either way, I had no response, and he seemed to know it. If it had been pity he’d been regarding me with, I would’ve found a tendril of annoyance or anger and grabbed it with both hands. Instead, the emotion in his eyes was warm understanding, like a first sunny day that carried actual heat after a long, long winter. It did, in that instant, dissolve the last armor I possessed against him.
When he said, “Let’s go find you some warmer clothes,” all I could do was nod and rise to my feet.
The cab of the Avalanche was still warm, and I shuddered my appreciation. Even Henry had donned another pair of gloves on the walk over from the restaurant.
“What else are you hiding in that coat?” I asked. “It’s got an endless supply of gloves and hats from what I’ve seen.”
“Best to be prepared.” He grinned and pulled the gloves off with his teeth.
“What are you, a boy scout?”
“Rather that than frozen.” He started the engine and added, “There’s a year-round gear store in Houghton I usually go to. It’s mostly gently used, but they have new things too.”
“A secondhand store?” I said before I could stop myself.
Henry looked unimpressed. “It’s where I get most of my winter stuff. I can find you a sports shop or something if you prefer.”
The “snob” was implied, and I quickly shook my head. “No, no.” I cracked a grin, the half-frozen, half-bruised skin on my face protesting. “You can take me to your thrift store.”
“It’s not a—” Henry rolled his eyes when he saw my face. “Shut up, you.”
By the time we reached the bridge, I regretted my decision not to bring along my medication. My cheekbone and jaw throbbed along with my heartbeat, and my nose stung like someone had just punched it, not to mention every time the car jolted, my lungs felt like they were being jabbed by a hot poker. Henry kept glancing over like he knew, but thankfully said nothing so I could concentrate on keeping the waves of nausea down.
The sigh of relief when we pulled up in front of a huge store made him laugh a little, and he turned in his seat.
“Why don’t you write down what you need from the grocery store, and I’ll go get it while you buy some decent clothes.”
“I have decent clothes,” I said automatically to hide how very much I didn’t want to trundle through aisles pushing a cart.
“So that’s why half the stuff you’re wearing is mine?” The grin Henry gave me was slightly wicked; he had a point, and he knew it.
A search of the cab yielded a pencil and an empty envelope. Thinking quickly, I penned down what I needed from memory. “That’s about it,” I mumbled, sucking on the end of the pencil, spitting it out when I tasted the eraser. Henry put his fingers to my cheek, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Fingering the bruise there gently, he said, “You’re just as stubborn as I remember. It’s all right to be in pain, you know. No need to put on a brave face. Not for me.”
Eyes saucer-wide, I gaped at him. Nausea forgotten, I dropped the pencil and barely
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