Incense and Sensibility (The Rajes #3) - Sonali Dev Page 0,77
have to help me,” he said behind her, his voice falling on her skin like a caress. “I mean that. If this is a problem. Just say the words and I’ll leave.”
More than anything she wanted him to leave, to leave her home, to leave her thoughts. Turning around, she walked back to him. “Of course I’ll help you.” She sat back in the chair, because since when was she a liar? “I will always help you.”
That seemed to hit him even harder, which made her angry. Why did that surprise him?
“Why? Because you help everyone who needs it?”
How dare he ask her that?
“That certainly has something to do with it.” That was about as much as she was going to give him. Because obviously him needing to ask why was telling. “I saw that you canceled your public appearances.”
“Only for the next week. I have to get back to it before the debate.”
“And that’s why you’re here, because you think I can help you get back to it?”
“That certainly has something to do with it.”
She wanted to tell him to stop playing games, but she knew he wasn’t playing games. He didn’t want to be here. He was only here because he felt like there was nowhere else he could go for help right now.
“Is the studio always this quiet?” he asked.
“It’s late. We’ve been closed for hours.”
“It was empty this evening too. Did you . . .” He studied her, in that guarded way where he was thinking about how to say what he wanted to say. “Did you cancel appointments because you thought I might need to come over?”
She wished her smile wasn’t so bitter. “You have a very high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”
“No, I have a very high opinion of you.”
“Yash.” She hated saying his name. Every time she said it, a physical ache squeezed in her chest. Craving gathered in her belly. “Please.”
But suddenly he seemed in no mood to back off. “Why is it so easy for me to talk to you?”
“Is it?” Because she was in hell talking to him.
“I haven’t been able to tell anyone else that I’m not sure I can do this.”
“This?”
“I’m not sure I can go through with it.”
She waited. If he could indeed only verbalize things to her, then he had to prove that. It was the only hope she had of helping him, which seemed like the only way to get rid of him and get back to her life.
“I’m not sure I can run anymore.”
“You’re not sure if you want to run for governor anymore?”
“That’s what I said.”
No, it wasn’t, and she had to make that distinction for him. “Are you thinking about dropping out of the race?”
“That makes it sound like a conscious decision. It’s more like the part of me that was running, the part that had focused on nothing but that one thing, winning, that part is dead. Not lying in a coma but dead. He’s gone. And before you make me close my eyes and go back anywhere, I’ll tell you that part of me was alive and well and firing on all cylinders until I woke up in that hospital.”
“Was it when you woke up? Was that when you noticed that he was gone?”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch. His Adam’s apple pushed against his throat where his stubble tapered off. His shirt was always buttoned all the way to the top. The urge to unbutton him, to strip him down to the man underneath, it was hot lava inside her.
For a long time he was silent, and miles away. “The thing I haven’t told you. The thing I haven’t told anyone is that I can’t feel anything. Not unless I’m with . . .” He closed his eyes and went silent again.
This explained so much. It explained why he kept coming back. She waited.
“Thinking back to waking up in the hospital, the only thing I remember is not feeling anything at all.” His eyebrows pulled together. Pure agony tightened his face. “Did I tell you that Abdul fell on me when he was shot?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“After he took the bullet for me.” A tear danced at the edge of his closed eyes. “I remember him pushing me out of the way and hitting his head on the podium with the force of it. When I sat up he was sprawled across my legs, blood was spurting from his neck, it was like a