“You want to know why I love that game?” Ozzie asks once he gets zipped in, and I hand him one of the pillows from the bed.
“Why?”
He settles in, lying on his side to face me. “Because nothing happens. You just…keep their vitals up and don’t let them shit themselves. That’s pretty much it.”
This man makes me laugh. “I get it. There’s something cozy about that, I guess. And there’s something about you being such a rule follower that makes me feel safe. Well, safer than what I’m used to. Is that weird?”
A lion-sized yawn stretches his masculine features, and he rolls onto his back, stretching his arms up over his head.
“I’m sorry, Mila.”
“For what?”
While stretched out on his back, he looks over at me and touches my hand hanging over the mattress’s edge. My skin tingles at his touch.
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe growing up.”
A part of me wants to tell him that I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. But considering him reasonably, based on what I know of Ozzie, I don’t think he means it as pity.
I’m learning the difference between empathy and pity. Khaz had empathy. I resisted his advice for so long because I thought he felt sorry for me. But when I saw what he’d done for me…what he sacrificed…I now understand he was genuinely rooting for me. Khaz wanted to get me out of that life and start a new one.
Ozzie didn’t grow up like me, but he empathizes with my circumstances.
There goes another brick in the wall I’ve built to keep myself distant from him.
“Thank you,” I say, blinking slowly, sleep taking over.
I give in to it and allow myself to feel that safety.
My body likes the scent of Ozzie’s room and the cute grunting noises he makes when he’s settling deeper into his pillow. Something down deep in me wants to crawl inside that sleeping bag with him.
“What do you think of my family?” he sleepily asks.
I turn the pillow until it is positioned right and then sigh. “They’re…okay, a lot…not at all what I’m used to.”
I want to tell him that I love every one of them; even Bryan has his charms, in an annoying brother way. I want to say I like them so much that I want to stay here forever.
But it’s all an illusion. Even if this relationship was real, I’d have to tell him what happened to Bulletproof, and then our relationship would be doomed.
“They are insane about you,” Ozzie says, his eyes blinking slowly as he fights off sleep. “Tabitha already told me they like you better than they like me. And that’s saying something because I’m the baby of the family, and everyone loves me the most. Even Bryan.”
I grunt in agreement.
“It’s true,” he continues. “Mom and Dad would never say it, but they have their favorites.”
“Wow, you are the baby,” I say, chuckling.
“So. How is my family all that different from yours?”
“Wow. That’s a loaded question.”
“Sorry. Sleepy. I wasn’t thinking. Of course, there’s a lot of baggage there. I shouldn’t have asked.”
My face settles deeper into the pillow, and I say, “No, it’s okay. No one ever asks about my parents, and I wish people would. My mom was a hairstylist, and my dad worked for a trash hauling company. They were both sweet people. From what I can remember, they had lots of friends. They were both only children, so I didn’t have any biological aunts and uncles, but a lot of people I called aunt and uncle. I didn’t realize until later that all those people were a part of the mob. Dad wasn’t involved in it, but Bulletproof owned the waste and recycling companies. I’m sure it was one of the legit businesses he bought to launder his money. Anyway, my dad had a lot of gambling debts. Although he was a sweet dad, he wasn’t great with money. And that’s where things started to go wrong.”
“Thank you…for trusting me…with the stuff that makes you sad…I hope I can make you…h—”
And he’s asleep.