Page 29 of Inferno

“Henry, stop it. I’ll drive you to fucking work,” he snarls, and I flinch, shocked by the anger in his tone.

Why is he angry? He rejected me. He brought me here, then refused to let me leave. He freaked out and decided he didn’t want me just because I’m a virgin. If anyone should be angry, it should be me.

I don’t know what he sees in my face, but he sucks in a sharp breath, then exhales slowly. “What time do you need to be at work?” he asks.

“Seven,” I tell him quietly.

Checking the time on the clock, he nods. “Let me get dressed, then I’ll make us some breakfast before we have to leave.”

“I’d rather go as soon as you’re ready. I’m not hungry.”

“Did you eat already?” he asks, his brow furrowed as he scans the room like he’s expecting to find evidence that I stole food from his refrigerator.

“No,” I hiss, hating the hint of panic that has seeped into my voice.

“We have time to eat before we have to leave,” he says, his tone softening.

My body tries to relax in response to the change in his attitude, but I refuse to allow it, keeping myself tense and defensive as I stare him down. Combative is not my usual response to conflict, but Anders showed me last night that we don’t have a future, and if I don’t shore up my walls against him now, I’m not sure I’ll ever have the strength to do it.

“I’d rather just get to work,” I tell him, refusing to allow the nerves to come through into my words.

“And I said, we’ll have breakfast before we go.”

Instead of giving me a chance to protest, Anders turns and bounds up the stairs, the muscles in his bare back clenching and releasing with each step.

My hands are shaking as I lower my empty mug of coffee to the table. Why am I still reacting so strongly to him after he rejected me? Closing my eyes, I inhale through my nose, then slowly exhale, searching for a calm that I doubt I’ll be able to achieve.

By the time I hear Anders’s feet on the stairs again, I’m still shaky and desperate to get away from his all-consuming orbit. Being unwanted is hard enough without having to make awkward conversation with my failed one-night stand over breakfast.

“Eggs and bacon?” he asks, pausing by the side of the couch.

“I’m really not hungry,” I whisper.

“Bacon and eggs it is,” he growls, completely ignoring me as he storms into the kitchen and loudly starts pulling pans from the cabinet.

The tremor in my hands starts to rise up my arms, and I push my fingers between my thighs, clamping my legs together in an effort to stop it from getting any worse. I don’t turn and look toward the kitchen and instead keep my focus split between the blank TV screen and through the window to where Parker’s car is parked. It’s still early, barely six a.m., but I’m hopeful that today is the day she’ll decide to leave early and I’ll be able to flee with her.

“Come and eat,” Anders says, his tone firm and unyielding.

“I really?—”

“Get your ass over here and eat,” he demands, making his words an undeniable order and letting me know that refusing the food he’s cooked for me isn’t an option.

Slowly pushing up from the couch, I pad silently over to the table and sit down in the same seat I used last night.

“Henry.”

It takes me a few moments to slow my breathing, but once I do, I lift my gaze just enough so I’m not outright ignoring him,but not high enough that I’m giving him my full attention. It’s clear from his immediate scowl that he doesn’t appreciate me not acknowledging him the way he wants me too, but I manage not to buckle under his steely look.

“Last night…I didn’t handle it as well as I should have,” he says, his voice rough.

“It’s fine,” I reply immediately, not wanting to discuss anything that happened last night.

“It’s not fucking fine.” Inhaling, he lets the breath out slowly, and as I watch, his tense shoulders start to relax.

“Can we just not?” I say, exhaling out a pathetic huff. “I get it, okay? I don’t think we need to dissect it or talk about it. You stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you.”

“That’s not what I want,” he snarls, legit snarls.

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