Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

“See?” She waves her hand toward me. “You’re lucky. I was so alone, and I’m not talking bored alone. I’m talking about why I was willing to put up with Jeff’s bullshit sometimes in order not to feel invisible and alone.”

“What’s that mean?”

“When you have nothing and no one, there doesn’t seem to be much of a point. No one would even miss me. I could disappear, and nothing would change for a single soul. The only people who cared died.”

I’m speechless for maybe the first time in my life. I’ve never once had that thought. Never thought it wouldn’t matter if I dropped off the face of the earth. My parents would be crippled with grief. My grandparents would be devastated. All the people in my life would feel some sort of emotion.

“I can’t imagine,” I whisper.

“So, sometimes it’s better to be visible, even if you’re not treated great all the time. At least you’re seen. And I thought maybe he’d care if I died. But based on what happened last night and how quickly he filled my spot, I guess I was wrong.” She turns her head, staring out the window that faces the backyard.

She looks so sad, and I want to do whatever I can to wipe away the feelings she’s experiencing.

“I’m sure it would’ve been different if you’d died.” I cringe immediately. The words were meant to be nice, but they came out sounding like the stupidest fucking shit in the entire world. “He’s pissed right now, but who cares. He doesn’t have any right to be mad when he’s the one who treated you like shit.”

She runs her index finger up and down the coffee mug, her eyes fixed on the movement. “You know the worst part?”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t even care about the other girl—or him, for that matter. I’m not mad. I’m not even sad. I’m nothing.”

“And that’s bad, why?”

She tips her head back, staring me straight in the eyes. She doesn’t look as frail as she did last night when we stood in the shop. “I should feel something, shouldn’t I?”

“Nope. He isn’t worthy of your sadness, but you should be pissed. Very pissed at the way he treated you.”

Opal sighs and goes back to looking out the window. “I’m happy to be away from him. I lay in bed all night and thought about how peaceful I felt for the first time in as long as I could remember.”

“Good. Everyone deserves some peace.”

“I guess so,” she whispers.

“I was serious earlier.”

She turns her head toward me, giving me those beautiful blue eyes. “About what?”

“About staying here.” My palms are sweaty because I’ve never lived with a woman, especially one I would sleep with in a heartbeat but haven’t yet.

“You want to be roomies?” She has a small smile on her face.

“Yeah,” I say, but my voice cracks a little when I answer. “For as long or as little as you like.”

“As long as I like. You sure about that?”

I swallow, trying not to throw up. It’s as if someone else has possessed me because the man I was a few days ago would’ve never asked her to live with me.

“What if I’m a murderer?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I’m still alive, and based on the look of you—” I let my eyes travel down her frame, “—I’m thinking I could take you.”

“What if I’m a neat freak?”

I wave my hand around the kitchen, which is clean but not neat. “Clean your heart out.”

“What if you want to bring a woman home?”

“I won’t.” I’m quick to answer.

“But what if you do? You’re a handsome guy.”

I smile at her words. “You think I’m handsome?”

Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as she looks away from me. “You know you’re handsome. Stop.”

“Will you feel weird if you bring guys home?” I ask, hoping she’ll say yes because the thought makes my blood boil.

Her eyes slice to mine. “I couldn’t do that. That would be rude.”

I tilt my head, studying her face. “Why?”

She shrugs and shifts her gaze away again. “It’s a nice offer. A really great offer, actually, but I think it’s best if I spend some time on my own again. I need to get my head right after what I’ve been through.”

I nod. “Makes sense.”

She lifts her coffee cup to her lips. “I’ll look for places today,” she says against the rim.

“If you need to stay another night, you’re more than welcome to use the guest room again. I’m not kicking you out.”

Her eyes search my face as she places her coffee mug back on the table, but she keeps her hand wrapped around the base. “You’re a good guy, Stone.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Why?”

“I have a reputation to uphold, and being good isn’t something I’m known for.”

“So, you’re an asshole?”

“Sometimes.”

“Is the asshole or this nice guy sitting next to me the act?”

“A little of both.”

“Men are weird,” she mutters, shaking her head.