I look at his back and frown. For a moment, I thought he was going to make a move on me. I’m not sure if I’m more relieved ordisappointed that he didn’t. It’s better that we keep things professional, right?
Dinner turns out to be delicious. All the high calorie, high carb awfulness of it. At the end of the meal, Dane has a solution to my overfull belly.
“You need a pickle.”
I give him a dirty look until I realize he means an actual pickle. Apparently, the vinegar helps your stomach break down food.
Once our food has had a chance to settle, my thoughts settle as well. I start to dwell on all the horrible things that could be happening to Justin. I wish I’d never been a guest on that stupid podcast.
I heard some stories on that podcast that stuck with me. Stories about what Salvatore Moreno does to people who cross him. None of them were pleasant. The most disturbing thing of all, though, was a certified fact: Moreno kept a fully trained doctor on hand to make sure that his ‘guests’ didn’t die before he could make them suffer for their supposed crimes.
The idea of my brother being in the hands of such a man made me physically ill. I wanted to crawl up in a ball and die.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “I just need to go and lay down.”
“Begging your pardon, Miss Selene, but laying down is the last thing you need right now.”
I arch a brow at him.
“Miss Selene? If you call me that again I’m going to go outside the gate and let myself get eaten by the first bear and/or mountain lion that comes along.”
“What’s so bad about Miss Selene?”
I groan. “If you must know, before I got my full-time gig I had to babysit on weekends for grocery money. There were these little eight-year-old brats, twins, and they were always calling me that.Miss Selene, I’m hungry. Miss Selene, we can’t find any cartoons to watch. Miss Selene, he just picked his nose andwiped it on me.Ugh, I can still hear their grating voices in my dreams.
He laughs, and holds up a hand.
“All right, that’s totally legit. Sorry…Selene.”
“And why shouldn’t I lay down? I didn’t sleep a full eight hours or anything.”
“No, you did not, but right now you're feeling down because you’re worried about your brother. You need some stimulation, something to keep your mind off of him.”
“Oh, and you’re just the guy to give me that, are you?”
He chuckles, green eyes sparkling.
“In a manner of speaking. Get up, I’m going to show you some self-defense.”
“What? This seems random.”
“You need to get up and move around. The endorphins from exercise will counteract the totally understandable depression you’re feeling right now. Proven scientific fact.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
He laughs and pats his belly.
“I didn’t get these abs because of vanity. Let’s say it takes a lot of endorphins to help me forget to be miserable.”
I sigh, my heart melting all over again.
“Dane, it’s okay to feel bad. It’s okay to talk about what’s making you feel bad, too. I want you to know that you can talk to me.”
“I just did.”
“No, you made a little one-liner alluding to your depression, which could be viewed as a cry for help. You want the help but you’re afraid to ask for it.”