Page 83 of Into These Eyes
Pushing the now empty plate aside, he fixes his eyes on mine, his expression serious. “Obviously, I don’t know what it’s like for a woman, but for a man—at least, the way I was raised—I need to contribute. But I can’t even get a fucking job.”
Confused, I tilt my head. Why hadn’t it occurred to me before now that this new situation might interfere with his job? In fact, why hadn’t he mentioned it when giving me the reasons he couldn’t stay here? “I thought you had a job.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and, as he does, I notice his hand fisting on his thigh.
“Gavin?”
Staring at his empty plate, he nods. “Yeah, I did. I lost it recently.”
Suddenly closed off, he won’t look at me. I can’t imagine him losing a job through incompetence. With what I know about him, I’m sure he’d be the best employee anyone could want.
“How did that happen?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter,” he mutters a little too quickly.
“That sounds an awful lot like my answer when I didn’t want to tell you about the note under my door. What was it you said? That friends don’t hide things from each other?”
Without looking at me, he sighs heavily. “I unintentionally took the day off. And completely forgot to call it in. They don’t give people like me a second chance.”
Unintentionally took a day off?“Was this the day we went to see Liam?”
“No. It was about a week ago.”
As the pieces fit together, I stare at him in horror. About a week ago he’d been here, looking after me. And he hadn’t left until around midday. My drunken, irresponsible behaviour resulted in his unintentional day off.
I’m the reason he lost his job.Guilt and humiliation crash through me. I’m supposed to be making his life better. Instead, I’ve made it harder.
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shakes his head. “I knew you’d feel responsible. And you’re not. It was my decision to stay with you, not yours.”
Damn this man. I’m making this up to him whether he likes it or not. I close my fingers over the fist resting on his thigh. I really need to have a serious conversation with my hands. They seem to believe he’s the magnetic north pole to my south.
“Gavin, I can fix that for you right away. Because now youdohave a job. I’ve just hired you as my bodyguard.”
Finally, he meets my eyes. “Can’t tell my Corrections officer that. Not an occupation I’m allowed to enter into.”
He’s right. He can’t have a job that involves the possibility of violence. That’d break his parole conditions.
“Oh, I know! You can be my personal assistant. It’s totally normal for a professional to have one these days. I’ll pay you a wage, of course.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “No fucking way.”
“Yes, fucking way. If employment is one of your parole conditions, that means you need to prove you’re earning an income, right?”
I know he hates the idea, but the moment he realises it’s the only way this will work, his shoulders slump in defeat, and my heart breaks a little.
“Having you do all the things I don’t have time for … well, I don’t think you understand how much of burden you’ll be lifting from my shoulders. That’s quite a gift.”
“People don’t pay for their own gifts.”
Stubborn man. “True, but itwillbe a gift when you pay me back. And I expect you to.” I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “No matter how long it takes.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Paying me doesn’t make me feel like I’m contributing. It seems more like taking advantage. And that makes me feel … less than.”
“Youarecontributing. Just by being here. Do you know how it felt to not want to come home? To be afraid of the one place I should feel safe? It’s …” Opening up like this goes against my nature, but if he can do it, so can I. “It’s unsettling. To know that, in a heartbeat, your sanctuary can be snatched away. And now that you’re here … you’ve given me back my home. To me, that’s something that’smore than, not less than. Please don’t put yourself down like that.”
The corners of his lips twitch as he suppresses a smile. Averting his gaze to my hand, he slowly uncurls his fist until his fingers wrap around mine and we’re palm to palm. “Besides cooking, what do you need assistance with?”
