“I can feed myself, you know,” I said, reaching for the spoon. He tried to help me out, but I refused. I was already too uncomfortable with the closeness he was trying to build between us.
“Never said you couldn’t,” he replied, but the glint in his eyes told me he wasn’t entirely convinced.
I took a small sip of the soup, letting the rich, earthy flavor settle on my tongue. It was perfect, too perfect, almost, as if he’d poured all his care and worry into every ingredient.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Rigz,” I murmured, not meeting his gaze.
He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “It’s not trouble.”
The room grew quiet after that, the only sound was the clink of the spoon against the bowl as I ate. But his presence was impossible to ignore. The way his eyes fol
