56. Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Six

Beth

I feel like an emotional wreck as I follow Gio into the restaurant's kitchen. I can't believe I told him what happened with Marcus. It felt kind of freeing to unload, but at the same time I'm worried about how he's going to see me now.

"I'm not usually this weepy." I wipe at my damp eyes with my sleeve. "I just … I haven't been sleeping that well, which you kind of already know, I guess."

"It's understandable. You don't have to explain anything."

He takes a first aid kit from a cupboard and leads me over to a bar stool by a small table across from the ovens. I sit down and roll up my sleeves.

"Sorry, I have a tendency to talk too much," I admit. "I've always been like this. My mom told me I came out babbling away, and I guess I've never really stopped."

He smiles as he sets the kit down. "We all have our little quirks."

"What are yours?" I ask, while he opens the kit.

"I'm used to fixing things without any help," he admits. "It means I don't always talk things out with my pack like I should. I can be too quiet. Too solitary. It's something I'm working on. I don't think talking is a bad thing. You shouldn't apologize for it."

He brings out a tube and sets it down. Then he picks out antiseptic wipes.

Great. This is going to sting.

That'll teach me to keep scratching wounds that aren't itchy.

"You should go to a doctor," he says, as he takes out a wipe. "This might help for now, but it's probably better if they give you the right stuff to help you heal up."

"A paramedic looked me over when I got out of that closet."

"Paramedics aren't doctors."

"They're close enough."

"This might sting," he warns me. "You've broken the skin in a couple places."

I brace myself for the burn. It's not so bad.

It's a little gross that I made myself bleed out of psychological itchiness, but it's kind of nice to be looked after like this. The cold cream he smooths into my skin feels amazing.

"Oh wow, that feels so much better."

He wraps gauze around my wrist when he's done, and I slip my sleeve back down over the bandage. He holds his hand out, and I blink at him.

"I didn't scratch this one."

"It's still sore, and the skin looks dry. The same salve should help."

"Oh," I murmur.

He takes care of it, and I sit there, enjoying being looking after.

It's been a long time since I let anyone do something for me.

I have to admit, it feels really nice.

"That should do it," he says. "But I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd go to a doctor."

"I'm fine," I assure him, pulling the other sleeve down. "Whatever that stuff is, I'll get some and keep using it."

"I'll do it for you, when you're here," he offers, clearing everything away.

Right, because I'll be here every day next week.

I should really wrap my head around that.

I'm taking a week off my dull-as-dishwater college course to play entrepreneur and help these guys make their restaurant a success. It's equal parts exciting and nerve-wracking.

And I'm completely unprepared.

"If we're done with the tour," I start, getting down from the stool, "I have some research I want to do before tomorrow."

He closes the cupboard and turns back to me. "Sure. I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to do that," I protest.

I can tell by the way he looks at me that it doesn't matter what I say.

He's made up his mind, and he's not going to change it.

"I'm not letting you walk around alone after what happened last night."

The urge to defend my ex comes and goes, and it leaves a bitter taste behind.

Whether the abuse is physical or mental, it doesn't change the truth.

Rourke hurt me.

I didn't see it coming, and I won't risk a reprisal.

If I need to be escorted around for a bit to make sure he doesn't get near me, I can cope with that. Especially if it means I get to spend a bit more time with this guy.

"Okay, fine," I tell him. "But if my sister sees you, you're a friend from class."

He laughs. "Me? A student?"

"What's wrong with that?" I ask.

"Do I look like a student?" he asks, raising a dark eyebrow and motioning up and down.

I smile. "I guess not, but you'd make a pretty suave T.A."

"What the hell is a T.A.?"

"A Teaching Assistant," I explain. "You're too young to be a teacher."

"I can deal with that. I'll be your T.A."

"If my sister asks."

"Sure," he agrees, stepping forward and holding the kitchen door open for me.

I let him lead me out of the building, stopping for a moment to say goodbye to his pack brothers in the reception area before he takes me home.

Jack gives the warmest response.

Arrow seems a little distracted, and Enzo … well, he looks as disapproving as ever.

"I don't think your chef likes me," I confess as we walk away from the restaurant.

"Enzo?" Gio asks, sounding confused. "Why would you think that?"

"It's the way he looks at me. Like he thinks I'm up to something."

He laughs. "You should watch him tomorrow. You'll see that's just his usual expression."

"If you say so."

I fully intend to be working too hard to notice much of anything.

Immersing myself in what needs to be done will take my thoughts off everything else.

It'll be a good change to focus on something that doesn't instantly make my brain switch off.

We come to a stop outside my sister's apartment building and Gio smiles at me.

"What time do you want to come over tomorrow?"

"I get to pick my start time?" I ask.

"Well, we open at midday so I could come over at eleven thirty if that's when you want to get started. I'm not a late sleeper so earlier is good for me, too. You'll be stuck with just me if you need anything until lunchtime, though."

That doesn't sound so bad, being stuck with him, but I also like the idea of a late start.

"Eleven thirty sounds great."

He smiles. "I'll see you then."

"Can't wait."