33. Wren

33

WREN

A rriving at Mal's house, I thought we'd be pulling up to a mansion. Or at least something that was entirely too big for a single man, but instead, when we approached an adorable modest-size home, my mouth dropped open in shock.

To say this wasn't what I pictured would be an understatement.

If anything, his home was something I could have imagined myself living in. Modern, neutral, with lots of windows to let in natural light, I was in awe.

Even as I put his car into park, my mouth was still left open.

"Mal, this is… beautiful." I glanced over at the other beautiful sight beside me and nearly fainted from it all.

He appeared indifferent as he shrugged his shoulders.

"It's… home."

I wanted to argue with him about it, but instead decided to wait for another time. When it wasn't so late and when he wasn't in so much pain.

Seconds later he was using his good arm to open the passenger door and on a curse, I shot out of the driver's side and ran over to him.

"Jesus, Mal, be careful. I'm here to help you, so let me." I held open the door as he made his way out on a low growl. I instinctively reached for his arm to steady him, but he instantly gave me the shake-off.

"I'm not inept, Doe."

Rolling my eyes, I glared daggers into his back.

"I know you're not, but I'd rather hold your arm than have you trip and fall."

Once he was fully out of his vehicle, he began walking to the front of his house. I carefully closed his car door and followed after him.

"I'm a hockey player, I don't trip and fall," he called out from in front of me.

I scoffed, but silently where he couldn't hear me.

"Right," I said. "So, what exactly am I allowed to help you with then?"

He unlocked his front door and just when I thought he would step inside first, he made room for me ahead of him.

"I'll let you know."

Giving him a strange look, I walked past him and into his house where I was greeted with the scent of Mal. Though it was pitch black, I knew immediately it was somewhere I could feel comfortable.

Safe.

Seconds later, the lights were on and Mal was closing and locking up the door behind him. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust but when they did, I found myself in awe again.

One word.

Simplicity.

That's how I would describe what I was seeing as I roamed my eyes over everything that was in my line of vision.

"Welcome home."

I could feel his eyes heavy on me but I was too busy taking it all in.

So this was where Mal hid away.

"Do I get a tour?" I asked in a hopeful tone, but he looked less than thrilled to do so as I glanced over at him.

"Let me wash up first," he promised, causing me to smile.

"Okay. Um, do you… do you need help?"

As soon as the words fell out, I wished I could have taken them back.

"Do I need help washing?" His lip quirked as my face grew red. "No, Doe. I think I can handle it."

Jesus, I'm such an idiot.

"Of course, I guess I'll just wait down here then?"

He smiled back at me and soon motioned his head for me to follow him.

"Come on, I'll show you to the living room."

He took off down a hallway where we eventually veered off to the right and ended up in an open living room.

A large gray sectional sat in the center of the room, while an oversized TV took up most of the space on the wall. It was your average living room, but what really puzzled me was the fact there were no pictures on the wall.

No decorations.

Not anything.

"Here's the remote." He grabbed it off a couch arm and handed it to me. "Help yourself to the kitchen, and bathroom is just in that hallway we were walking through."

He went to walk away but I quickly accepted his escape.

"Well, what about you? Aren't you hungry?"

Peering back at me, he almost looked surprised that I was asking.

"I can try to make us something for dinner? No guarantees it'll be good, though. I'm not exactly known for my cooking skills." I chuckled, pushing back some pink strands that were getting in the way.

His throat bobbed.

"That's fine. Use whatever you can find and I'll come back down to check on you when I'm done."

Mal looked nervous, and within seconds he vanished, leaving me alone and even more confused than before. Then with the shake of my head, I headed toward the kitchen. It took me a minute or two to find the light switch, but once I did, everything was now illuminated.

This was a nightmare of a kitchen for a non-cooker like me. Fancy appliances, an array of pots, pans, and knives, already I could see myself failing before I had even started. Everything was clean and organized, and to further confirm that, I opened almost every drawer he had.

Nothing was out of place.

Freakishly so.

I found the pantry soon after and sifted through all his food. From top to bottom, I came across many options but settled on something easy—spaghetti. Grabbing a box of angel hair noodles, a can of pasta sauce, and some garlic bread, I got to work.

Soon, I had a pot of water on the stove boiling and found some ground beef in his fridge that I could brown up. Luckily, there were no mishaps yet and not too long after, had my noodles almost finished and the garlic bread cooling off from being in the oven.

"I was expecting at least something burnt or dirty dishes all over the place," Mal announced from behind me, causing me to almost drop the pot of noodles onto the floor.

"No burnt food here." I smiled confidently, until my eyes landed on the plate of garlic bread. "Well, at least seven out of ten of them aren't burnt."

As I carried the pot of boiling water and noodles over to the sink, I took a quick glance over at Mal who was standing with one hand propped behind him on the counter. He looked better, as if the shower had helped his mood, but it was the lack of shirt—again—that had my thoughts all scrambled up.

My throat went dry almost immediately.

In only a pair of black sweats, he looked every bit of a woman's fantasy. An extremely good-looking man standing barefoot and shirtless in the kitchen as he watched you cook.

Sounded too good to be true, but here I was, right in the middle of it.

"Looks good to me. When you said you weren't a good cook, I was thinking more on the lines of, you might burn the house down.

He grinned as my cheeks went flush.

Little did he know that was exactly what I almost did to my house, but he didn't need to know that.

"I'm bad, but not that bad."

Once I had the noodles strained and the sauce warmed up, I went to grab some plates.

"Why don't you go sit down and relax. I can bring you a plate," I offered, but he seemed reluctant to do so.

His top teeth gnawed along his bottom lip, but then on a sigh, he pushed his back away from the counter and nodded.

"Fine," he grunted.

I had a feeling Mal wasn't used to having someone to look out for him. I mean, obviously he wasn't when he'd never had anyone else in his home besides me. He was so used to being in control all the time and now that he was injured and had me here to help him, he felt useless.

But in no way did I see it that way.

I saw a man who was in desperate need of assistance. Even if it was just small things that could take the burden off his shoulders. At least some things were better than nothing.

As I prepared his plate, I filled up a glass of water for him and scavenged around in his freezer for an ice pack. Luckily, he had one, so I wrapped it in a thick towel and carried everything out to him in the living room.

Where I at least thought he'd be watching TV, he wasn't. Instead he was sitting in complete silence with his one arm spread out behind him along the top of the couch and his head tilted back, staring up into the ceiling. My feet skidded to a sudden stop.

He looked defeated.

Tired.

And it seemed to be affecting me even more now seeing him look so lost.

I almost turned back around and waited a few minutes to see if maybe he would at least turn the TV on. Or at least do something that would break up the tension in the living room that was currently on the verge of becoming too much to handle.

"Hey," I announced my presence, causing his head to shoot up from its leaned-back position. "I have your food here." I walked over to him, noticing that he was watching me intently.

"Thank you." He shifted himself into more of an upright position before reaching for the plate.

"Do you have a TV tray by any chance? That might be easier for you so you don't have to hold it."

"No, I don't. It's fine, though, I can just put it on my lap." He moved his arms to the side, leaving his thighs open for the plate. I hesitated for a moment, feeling bad that he had to eat with one hand while keeping his plate steady in his lap.

I began to think of other options for him—offer to hold his plate, or feed him—both ideas that he'd never go for, but it would have been better than him trying to do it all himself.

Reluctantly, I laid the plate down onto his legs and placed the drink on the coffee table in front of him.

Spaghetti was spaghetti. It all looked the same, but when I noticed him eyeing his plate closely, I couldn't help but feel a shock of insecurity hit me.

Did it look bad to him?

Or maybe I didn't make it to his liking?

A plethora of unsureness began to weigh heavy on my chest as he continued to stare at his food. I wanted to know what he was thinking because clearly he had some intricate thoughts right now.

"I can't tell you the last time someone's cooked for me like this." His eyes slid over to mine and immediately, I noticed a change in tone. Softer, and like he was in awe.

"Well, when do you think the last time was?"

His stare dropped briefly.

"Eleven years ago."

I sucked in a breath.

I could only think of one family in particular and I almost said screw it and let it all out right then and there. My plan, Greg and Shelia's agony over Mal's alienation, it was all on the tip of my tongue, but before I could, Mal had interrupted.

"Where's your plate?" He nodded toward my hands. "You're going to eat with me, aren't you?"

Caught off guard, my eyebrows scrunched together.

"I was just going to eat in the kitchen, but if you want me to eat with you, I will."

When I mentioned eating in the kitchen, his mouth curled.

"You're not eatin' in the kitchen alone, Doe. Get you a plate and come back out here," he bossed me on the lift of his chin, and I knew there was no way I couldn't not eat with him.

Plus, I kind of felt like I wanted to.

With a smile and nod, I went to head back into the kitchen but forgot I still had his ice pack in my hands.

Of course he didn't say anything about me having it…

I sidled up next to him in hopes I could just lay it gently over his shoulder, but of course, Mal had other plans.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a tone full of skepticism and tension as I hovered over the injured side of his body. Instantly, I broke out in waves of heat from our nearness that began to seep under my skin and penetrate my racing heart.

In all honesty, I had no idea why I was getting so close to him to put the ice on his shoulder.

"Taking care of you," I muttered as I slowly began to lift my arm into the air. I could feel his stare steady on my movement and just when I had expected him to stop me, he didn't.

Then ever so gently, I laid the ice down onto his shoulder, making sure that I put it in the right spot before I pulled away.

"You better still have this ice on your shoulder when I come back," I scolded in a soft-like tone.

His eyes had darkened to a deeper shade, and not once had he tore his gaze away from mine.

"Yes, ma'am."