Page 1 of The Centaur
One
Keoni
I gripped the platesin my hand tighter and pushed the door open with my elbow.
The front office was empty, since Touya was having lunch with his mate and the rest of our friends.
I walked across the small room, then bonked my head lightly against the second door in lieu of a knock.
"I'll eat later, Touya. Please go," Zephyr called, and I rolled my eyes.
"It's me," I said, and he was quiet for so long I wondered if he hadn't heard me. Just when I was about to raise my voice and speak again, he beat me to it.
"Come in."
I pushed the door open with my shoulder, keeping my eyes focused on the plates as I gathered myself before looking up.
Zephyr looked like shit. He had bags under his blue eyes, his skin had an ashen sheen to it, his salt-and-pepper hair was a right mess, and he appeared seconds away from crumpling to the ground.
He was dressed well, as usual, though his purple cloak looked wrinkled, as if he'd fallen asleep wearing it, and the same went for the black full-sleeved button-up clinging to him with all its might. This man was in desperate need of a nap.
Shaking my head, I walked over and placed both dishes on his desk. Then I picked up one of the visitor chairs and moved it to the side so I could stand in its place.
The room was big enough that I could fit comfortably, cart and all. As a centaur with a paralyzed back half that I had to tote around in a cart, I'd been extremely careful of my movements when I first came here, when Draven, the resident dwarf, first made my cart. But after all these years, I knew I didn't need to worry about not fitting somewhere. Zephyr had long ago made sure all doorways were wide enough, and all rooms had ample space for me. He was always taking care of us like that, which just annoyed me even more when he refused to let us do the same.
I'd tried to do it the slow way, to be there for him and hope that he'd ask me for help, but I knew now that wouldn't work. So I'd decided to be more proactive. I wasn't going to let Zephyr run himself ragged trying to take care of us. It was my turn to take care of him.
"Eat," I ordered, and I could already see the protest bubbling up his throat. But I kept gazing at him, and he sighed, then slid the plate closer to himself, the metal of his left hand glinting in the light.
Making him eat wasn't the only reason I'd come here. I also wanted to apologize.
A few days ago, I'd blown up at him in front of all the residents of the Sanctuary, and I really regretted that. I'd been too harsh, and I never should've said those words to him in front of all the people who looked up to him.
I especially regretted the last part. I'd been wanting to tell him that for a while, but the way I'd done it had been cruel, and I hated that.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, my eyes still on him. "I shouldn't have blown up at you."
Zephyr's lips curved upward just a little. "I deserved it."
I shook my head quickly as my eyes widened. "No, you didn't. You didn't, Zephyr," I stressed, my hand tightening on my spoon. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I didn't. Those words still hung between us, and he deserved an explanation.
But first, he needed to eat.
I nodded toward his food, and he shook his head, but obediently picked up the spoon with his right hand and started eating.
We ate in silence for a while, and I knew he wanted to ask me about what I'd said that day, but was holding back. He kept sneaking glances at me, his blue eyes full of questions.
"We'll talk after we're done eating," I promised, and he nodded, then continued with a little more gusto.
I smiled as I lowered my gaze to my food, and it wasn't long before our plates were clean.
"Oh, I forgot water," I realized as I automatically reached for the glass that would've been within reach if we were in the Dining Room.
"I'll get it," Zephyr murmured as he stood up and walked over to a cabinet. There was a jug of water and a few glasses on top of it, and he quickly filled two before placing one on the desk in front of me.
"Thanks."
We were quiet as he returned to his seat, and I took my time drinking as I tried to organize my thoughts. There was so much I needed to tell him, needed to explain, and I struggled to find the right starting point.
