Page 11 of The Sharpest Edges

It doesn’t mean anything anyway; she tells herself. Something the voice in her head has said more often than she’s comfortable with since meeting him.

“He’s attractive. He’s got nice arms. He’s a good person…I think….no, he is….it’s natural to have the occasional dirty thought about a man I can’t have.” She mumbles to herself as the blow dryer whips hot air through her hair. “Completely natural. It’s fine.”

* * *

There are cupcakes in the break room. Ava knows because she ate one while watching Nick suck down three. So when he brings Dean into the infirmary and turns on his heel to wander away, she knows exactly where he’s headed off too. The temptation of just one more cupcake is hard to resist.

Dean greets her with a shy smile like he’s not quite sure where they stand with each other now. It’s the first time they’ve been alone together since the last visit ended in a panic attack on her end and confused but sincere reassurance on his.

She meant it when she told him he gained trust points withthe choices he made and she wants more than anything to ease any doubts he might have now. Make things as comfortable as they can be again.

Her own thoughts from earlier that day choose this moment to creep up. Reminding her that she’d touched herself, however briefly, and thought of him. Her cheeks feel warm and her words stutter when she greets him, her reaction earning a slight frown in return.

This isn’t her. She’s not the type to stammer or blush, she does much better at being the one to tease and flirt, on the off chance she gathers the confidence to try, but today the tables are turned and it’s all her own doing. She has to get a handle on her wandering thoughts, she thinks as she inspects his injuries. They look better every time she sees him and he seems relatively normal these days, but the growl from his stomach makes her pause, with a tilt of her head. “Are they feeding you in there?”

He nods too quickly, another growl louder than before betraying his words. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Well, that was convincing. She doesn’t believe it for a second. “I know it’s only twice a day and that can be rough. Were you able to set up a commissary account?”

She’s only trying to help because he looks starved. His stomach has growled several times since he arrived and his eyes are unfocused and glassy, fingers fidgety, and skin warm. All signs of low blood sugar, at the very least.

He seems frustrated by her question, shaking his head with a shrug. “That ain’t it. Food from the cafeteria is fine, I got there late and missed my chance.”

She’s about to interrupt and tell him that’s completely unacceptable because by law, they’re supposed to make surehe has two meals per day regardless of being late, but he cuts her off before she can, clearly wanting to avoid this subject.

“It’s complicated. I’ll be okay.”

Complicated.

She turns that word over a few times, figuring it to mean that his lack of a meal has nothing to do with the guards and everything to do with his fellow prisoners. She’s heard of things like this happening, where one group will starve another, but she hoped that Dean was in the clear. That after his first encounter, he’d be left alone.

He doesn’t seem like the type to be a consistent target. Those are often weak and small and eager to fit in where they never will. The others can smell it on them like blood in shark-infested waters. None of that describes Dean, who she suspects doesn’t give a shit about fitting in and looks strong enough to hold his own, provided he’s not up against a group.

Ava sighs, frustrated at her inability to do much about this. She wants to ask him how long it’s been since he’s eaten anything, but decides against it because he may not tell her and she’s wasting precious time, anyway.

Nick is often good for at least fifteen minutes uninterrupted and they’ve already flown through eight, maybe ten. Cutting it close. She ignores all the warning bells in her head that tell her this is a bad idea and walks the two steps across the room to her bag.

The granola bar in her hand feels like contraband the moment she touches it. She unwraps it and holds the food out to Dean.

He’s looking at her like she’s lost her damn mind and maybe she has, but he’s hungry and he won’t get anything back in the pod tonight. He doesn’t deserve to suffer this much. At leastshe doesn’t think he does. She can’t be entirely sure yet.

She’s been tempted to ask Greg what landed him in prison in the first place. Her curiosity almost got the better of her, but she managed to keep herself in check. It would feel like a violation of his privacy to snoop and she’d rather he tell her himself. If and when he feels ready.

“No. Gonna get you in trouble. I can’t,” he says with a mournful look toward the food.

“I know the risks. We’ve got at least five minutes left and I can always hear Nick’s shoes on the floor before he comes in. It’s okay. You can take it.”

He looks at the bar again and back up at her, wrestling with this choice. He’s refusing only because he’s worried about her job, which only makes her want him to take it even more. “No one will know, and no strings attached. I promise.”

That did the trick. He takes it a second later with a soft ‘thank you’ before inhaling it on the spot. She wishes she had more to offer, but one is better than nothing. By the time she’s tossed the wrapper away and he’s finished off the last bite, he already looks more focused and the growling has stopped, even if there’s a tint of shame at having to accept her help.

“My neighbor’s cat had kittens last week,” she tells him, completely out of the blue, in a clumsy effort to change the subject. Who knows, maybe she’ll get lucky and he’s a cat person.

“Yeah? You takin’ one?”

“No. I can’t be trusted with a pet. I can’t keep a plant alive. But look, they’re cute and fat and I took a hundred photos of them.”

She grabs her phone off the counter and pulls up pictures of the tiny fluff balls, holding it up to Dean so he can see,his forefinger reaching out and scrolling through them.

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