Page 49 of Inferno

Gritting my teeth, I clench my jaw, swallowing down the urge to tell him he’s moving in with me so I can look after him. It’s not that I don’t want him to live with me; I do. But if I move him in now, there’s no way I’ll be able to temper my behavior around him. My dominant side will take over, and I’ll exploit hisnaturally submissive personality until he’s asking permission for everything.

Sucking in shallow, controlled breaths, I keep my mouth shut, not trusting myself to speak. Instead, I throw open the door and get out, circling the hood and opening his door before reaching for his hand and guiding him out of the car.

Leading him up to the house, I unlock the front door and hold it open, gesturing for him to go in first. Once he’s stepped past me, I follow him inside and close the door behind us, twisting the lock into place before I can convince myself not to.

The smell of rich tomato sauce and garlic hits me, and I inhale deeply. The lasagna I made earlier is staying warm in the oven alongside the foil-wrapped baked potatoes. The salad I made for us is in the refrigerator, and with an urgent intensity, I step past him and hurry into the kitchen to plate up his dinner.

We’ve barely made it into the house and I’m already changing the plans I had for us tonight, because right now, nothing else matters other than feeding him.

I hear him cross the room, his soft footsteps barely audible past my racing heart and frantic need to take care of him.

“Sit,” I snap, grabbing his plate with shaking fingers and placing it down on the table.

“This looks?—”

“You’re hungry. Eat,” I snarl. I’m acting like a lunatic, but I don’t seem to be able to moderate my behavior.

“Are you eating with me?” he asks, his tone timid.

Bracing my hands against the counter in the kitchen, I close my eyes and suck in a slow, deep breath. I need to calm down, but it bothers me more than it should that I didn’t consider his needs this morning.

I was focused on what I wanted and needed, and it never crossed my mind that he hadn’t brought food with him or whathe would eat at lunchtime. Knowing that he spent the day hungry while I messed around thinking about myself guts me.

Grabbing my own plate, I hold it so tightly my knuckles are white as I carry it over to the table and take the seat opposite him. Instead of eating with gusto, his eyes are downcast and he’s toying with the salad, pushing the food around the plate without bringing any of it to his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp.

“Why?” Henry asks, his expression openly confused.

Sometimes I’m so consumed with how right it feels that he’s mine that I forget how young and inexperienced he is. I’m apologizing for being an asshole, and he looks like he has no idea that he should be mad at me.

“I’m being an asshole.”

Henry shrugs. “You made me dinner, that doesn’t seem like an asshole move.”

“I’m mad at myself, and I’m taking it out on you. That’s why I’m an asshole.” I wait for him to agree, but instead he just sighs. “Please eat.” I’m not begging, but if he doesn’t take a bite, I soon will be.

I hold my breath until he cuts off a small piece of lasagna and brings it to his mouth. Relief makes me sag into my seat, and I watch him take two more mouthfuls before I start to eat my own dinner.

“What made you pick business administration?” I ask when he’s eaten half of his food and my riotous anger has settled to a seething ball instead of a furious bomb on a hair trigger.

“I wanted to get a degree that could actually help me get a job once I graduated,” Henry admits with a wry smile. “Although clearly it didn’t work.”

“Bay and Penn have offered you a full-time position, though, haven’t they?”

He nods, his mouth full of food. “They did when I first started at the garage.”

“Why haven’t you taken it?” My tone is blunt, but it feels important that he be honest with me.

“The travel mainly. It’s a long, expensive commute on public transportation. I let Bay and Penn know that I’m still applying for jobs, and they said they were happy for me to temp until either I find something else or they find someone to replace me.”

“I know you said that you get distracted when you drive, but I could help. I could teach you,” I offer, fighting the urge to tell him I’ll pay for a driver, or an apartment, or a golden cage that he could live in…naked.

“No.” His eyes fill with fear as he vehemently shakes his head.

“Did you take driver’s ed in high school?”

He shakes his head. “I took the tester session, and it was a disaster. I almost crashed.”

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