Bound

"You can't avoid me forever, Nyx, It's a small town."

Gus's voice drifted down from somewhere above me while I stood in the restaurant kitchen, glaring at the ancient industrial oven that had decided today was the perfect day to die.

Three days after the funeral and pretending the man living upstairs didn't exist, and now the universe was forcing my hand.

"Watch me try," I called back, kicking the oven door for good measure. His footsteps creaked across the ceiling, then down the stairs. I didn't turn around when he entered the kitchen, didn't acknowledge his presence even though I could feel him taking up space behind me.

"That model stopped being manufactured in 1987," he said. "You're not going to fix it by assaulting it."

"I wasn't asking for your help."

"I know. You've made that very clear." He moved past me, crouching down to examine the oven's wiring.

"But unless you want to explain to your customers why there's no food today, you might want to let me look."

I hated that he was right and I needed him and the fact that he smelled like sandalwood musk and something else I couldn't place, something that made me want to lean closer instead of stepping away.

"Fine," I bit out. "Fix it."

He worked in silence while I prepped what little I could without the oven, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary.

The restaurant opened in two hours and I had maybe three menu items I could actually serve.

"So what's your story?" I asked, unable to stand the quiet.

"Town handyman who preys on widows? Is that your thing?"

Gus didn't look up from the wiring. "Your mother wasn't a widow when we met. Your father had been dead for six years."

"That doesn't answer my question." He reconnected something inside the oven and the pilot light flickered to life.

"Your mother's refrigerator broke, we became friends after I fixed it."

"Friends who got married."

"Yes." He stood, wiping his hands. "Friends who got married."I'd watched him at the funeral, standing in the back while half the town cried.

They'd all come up to him after, thanking him for taking care of Maria, calling him a good man, a saint even. It made me want to scream.

"The oven should work now," Gus said, heading for the door. "But it's on its last legs. You'll need a replacement soon."

"With what money?"He paused. "I could help with that."

"I don't want your charity."

"It's not charity." He turned to face me fully. "This restaurant was your mother's dream. Don't let pride kill it."

"My mother's dream died with her," I said. "I'm just here because I have nowhere else to go."

"That's not true."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know you wanted to be a photographer. I know you moved to Milan against your mother's wishes because you needed to prove you could make it on your own. I know you haven't picked up your camera in six months because the dream started feeling more like a nightmare." He took a step closer.

"I know you're here because you're scared and broke and grieving, and you hate that I can see it."

My hands stilled on the cutting board. "She told you all that?"

"Some of it but I can see the rest for myself.""Why did you really marry her?"

The question came out quieter than I intended. Gus was silent for so long I thought he wouldn't answer:

"Because I owed her late husband everything. And because she asked me to."

"That's not a reason to marry someone."

"It was reason enough." He held my gaze. "Your father saved my life once and I promised him I'd look after his family if anything happened to him, so far I've kept that promise."

" What could my father had possibly have done to save your life?"

Gus's expression went carefully blank. "It's a long story."

"I have time."

"No," he said. "You don't."

He didn't say anything else before he started fixing a wobbly chair in the corner like it was the most natural thing in the world.

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

"I know."

"Then why are you?"

He looked up at me, his hands stilling on the chair leg. "Because someone needs to. And you're too stubborn to ask for help."

"I don't need help."Gradually our routine shifted into me working in the restaurant and he showed up, fixing things without being asked, existing in my space like he'd always been there.

It was obvious that the town loved him. Everyone who came in had a story about something Gus had fixed, some problem he'd solved, some kindness he'd shown…It was infuriating.

"Why does everyone worship you?" I asked one evening after closing, when he was replacing a broken tile behind the bar.

"They don't worship me, Nyx. They appreciate that someone's willing to help without expecting something in return."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."I threw a wet rag at him. He caught it without looking, a smile tugging at his mouth."You have a terrible aim," he said.

"I wasn't aiming for you to catch it."

"I know." He tossed it back. "That's what makes it terrible."

I caught myself smiling before I could stop it, I was sure he saw it too, something lighting in his eyes that made my stomach flip nervously.

"Tell me about Milan," he said, going back to the tile.

"What was it like?"

"Expensive and crowded, full of people who didn't care if you existed."

"Sounds lonely."

"It was." The admission slipped out before I could stop it.

"I thought it would be different and if I could make it as a photographer, everything would fall into place."

"But it didn't."

"No. It didn't." I started wiping down tables even though they were already clean.

"I worked three jobs trying to keep myself fed while applying to every gallery, every magazine, every wedding that needed a photographer. Do you know what they all said?"

"What?"

"That my work was nice but not special. Milan has thousands of photographers and I needed something that made me stand out." I laughed without humor.

"Turns out being good isn't enough. You have to be exceptional but I'm just good."

"Your mother showed me your portfolio once, it's better than good."

"You're just saying that."

"I don't just say things." He stood, crossing the space between us until he was close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"I know talent when I see it, most importantly I know what it looks like when someone's light is dimming because the world keeps telling them they're not enough."

"Stop." The word came out strangled. "Stop acting like you know me."

"I'm not acting." His voice went softer. "And I do know you, Nyx, much more than you think."

We stood there, the air between us charged with something I didn't want to name.

His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second before snapping back up, and I saw the desire he was trying to hide, the same want that had been building in me for days.

"Gus," I started, not knowing how to finish.A loud crash from upstairs shattered the moment. Gus stepped back immediately, his expression shutting down.

"I should check that," he said before walking out.