Just like his soul.

How long had Adam been sitting there, his mind fighting the truth of who he was? If he was smart, if he had any decency at all, he'd tell Beth to leave. It was for her own good. She deserved so much better than anything he could give her. He'd tried telling Mikey that, that day in the hospital. Tried telling her every single time she brought it up after that. But she wouldn't believe him, had brushed off his concerns, had told him he was being too hard on himself.

He should have told Mikey why. If she knew half of the things he'd done, she would have never called Beth. Would have never meddled and tried to play matchmaker. He should have told her.

But then Beth wouldn't be here.

And God help him, he didn't want her to leave. It was selfish of him, but he wanted her here. Wanted to know she cared for him. Wanted, if only for an hour or two, to believe that she saw something inside him, something good. Something worth caring about.

He was a fool. Such a fucking fool.

A knock sounded on the door, soft and hesitant. "You okay in there? Need any help?"

No. Tell her no. Tell her to go away, to leave. To go home and forget she ever met him.

"Adam?" She knocked again, a little louder this time.

He opened his mouth, willed the words to come out, told himself it was for the best. It would be the first selfless thing he had done in a long time. But only a harsh croak came out.

"Adam?" She repeated his name, concern heavy in her voice. He saw the handle turn, saw the door ease open, yet he still couldn't get the words out, couldn't make himself tell her what she needed to hear—the truth, of who and what he was.

Not even when she hurried toward him. Not when she kneeled down in front of him and covered his shaking hand with her own. When had he started shaking? Why?

Concern filled her eyes, along with something else, something he didn't want to see. Something he didn't deserve.

Tell her, dammit.

But he couldn't get the words out. Couldn't even form them in his mind.

What did she see when she looked at him like that? She should be able to see him for what he really was. She should be able to see the blackness of his empty soul reflected in his eyes. Why didn't she see it?

"You okay?" She didn't wait for him to answer, just took the sweatpants from his hand and shook them out. Her hand, warm and gentle, closed around one ankle and guided his foot through the leg opening. She did the same with the other foot then tugged the pants up to his knees. Her fingers brushed against his inner thigh. She hesitated then released a small laugh, the sound quiet, almost breathless.

"This is a little weird, dressing you. All the other times, it's always been the opposite."

The sound that bubbled from Adam's throat couldn't be called a laugh. It was too harsh, too strangled. Filled with self-deprecation. "I'm an ass."

"Why? Because you need help? Don't be stupid."

"No, that's not why."

Beth pushed to her feet. He expected her to ask why but she didn't. Instead, she leaned down and held her arm out in front of him. "Here, take my arm, I'll help you up."

Adam looked up at her. "Why?"

"So you don't hurt yourself—"

"No. Why are you here? Why? I don't understand."

She was quiet for so long, her gaze steady on his as she watched him. A small smile, tinged with a hint of sadness, flashed across her face as she shrugged. "I don't know why. I just know—"

She hesitated, chewed on her lower lip for a second then shrugged again. "I just—I guess I feel like I need to be here. I know it doesn't make sense. I can't explain it. Now come on, take my arm and I'll help you up."

Adam hesitated, wanting to ask her to explain anyway. To make him understand. But he was afraid to, afraid of pushing, afraid of any answer she might give him. So he reached for her arm, let her ease him to a standing position as he pushed up with his legs. Beth leaned down and grabbed the waistband of the sweatpants, quickly tugged them up over his thighs and hips then took the towel from him and slung it over her shoulder.

"Everything's set up in the dining room. This won't take long, then you can eat. And then you should probably lay down. You shouldn't overdo anything the first day home."

Adam followed her out to the dining room, let her help him into one of the chairs. She draped a plastic cape around his shoulders, settled another one on the floor, then reached in front of him for a comb and a pair of scissors.

She ran her fingers through his hair, straightening the damp strands, using the comb here and there. He felt her pull a section straight, heard the faint clipping of the scissors as she trimmed the ends. "This really isn't bad at all. You won't even see a real difference once I'm done."

"You should leave."

She paused, the scissors going still. Adam heard her take a deep breath, imagined he could feel the warmth of it as she exhaled. "Wow. A few snips and already you're lodging a complaint. Usually my customers are pretty happy when I'm done."

"Beth, it's not—that's not what I meant." He started to turn his head but she held it still with the heel of one hand. She ran the comb through his hair, made a few snips with the scissors, combed another section.

Snip, snip.

"Then what do you mean?"

"I—" He hesitated, not sure what to say.

Tell her.

He needed to tell her.

"I—I'm fucked up, Beth. Really fucked up."

She paused again, her hand momentarily dropping to his left shoulder. And God, her touch felt so good, so comforting. He wanted to reach up and grab her hand, to hold onto it and never let go. He curled his fingers into a fist and forced his hand to stay in his lap.

"Is it your shoulder? Is it worse—"

"No. No, it's not that. Nothing like that." He pulled in a deep breath, winced at the pain and quickly released it, took a shorter one. "It's—it's me. I—the things I do. That I've done."

Beth moved her hand. She was going to leave now, he knew it. It was for the best, she deserved so much better.

But she didn't leave. She ran her fingers through his hair again, resumed cutting with the scissors.

Snip. Snip.

"What kind of things?"

And fuck, he couldn't tell her. He didn't want to tell her. But she deserved to know. Needed to know.

He closed his eyes, struggled to find the right words.

And then he told her. Everything. How he'd walked in on his girlfriend. What he saw. What he did. How he felt after. How he'd discovered the chatroom. The hook-ups, the casual encounters. Every single detail, all of it. The words fell from his mouth as if something had burst inside him, until there was nothing left to tell.

Until he felt…empty. Hollow.

Beth never said a word the entire time, just kept standing behind him, running her fingers through his hair and cutting. She finally stopped, placed the scissors and comb back on the table, and carefully removed the cape. He wanted to turn around and look at her, needed to see the disgust and loathing on her face.

Needed her to tell him what kind of sick and depraved monster he really was.

But she didn't say anything, just quietly gathered the plastic sheet from the floor and carefully folded it before carrying it into the kitchen. He watched her throw it into the trash can, turned away when she walked back into the dining room.

He had lied to himself—he didn't want to see her face. Couldn't bear to see the disgust in her eyes when she looked at him. It didn't matter. She'd leave now, just walk out and that would be that.

Except she didn't. She pulled out the chair to his left and took a seat, carefully folded her hands in front of her and rested them on the table, then let out a shaky breath.

It was the only sound in the apartment for a long time. Almost too long.

"So you think you're twisted and warp because you've met women in a chatroom for sex?"

"Yes. Didn't you hear what I said? The things I've done? It wasn't just the sex. It was—"

"We met in the chatroom. Does that mean I'm twisted and warped?"

Adam flinched as if he'd been hit in the chest. Is that what she thought he was saying? Did she really think he thought of her as twisted and warped?

"No. God no. Not even close. That's not what I meant, Beth. You're not—"

"Then why are you?"

"Didn't you hear what I said? All the things I've done?"

"What about the things we've done?"

"That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about—"

"Did you ever force anyone?"

"What? No! I would never—"

"So it was all consensual?"

"Of course. That doesn't mean—"

"Were any of the women underage?"

"Hell no! Absolutely not. I would never—"

"Then why do you think you're twisted and warped? Why are you so convinced of that?"

"Didn't you hear me?" He pushed away from the table, got to his feet and started pacing in an angry circle. "I walked in on my girlfriend fucking another guy and got a fucking hard on! I joined in. How is that not fucked up? I've had a threesome, got off watching two girls fuck each other. How is that not fucked up? It is. I am. Just…I'm just fucked up, period."

"I've, uh, I've never had a threesome but don't most guys get excited about watching two girls?"

"Beth—"

"Don't they? That's what I've always heard. My, uh, my ex-boyfriend used to watch porn all the time. That was what turned him on. The girls, I mean. He, um, he would get angry because I wouldn't—I never—"

"Fuck." Adam ran his hand over his face, his gut clenching at the pain and humiliation on Beth's face. He moved closer to her, kneeled down next to her and reached for her hand. "Your ex was a fucking asshole then."

"But you did it—"

"Yeah. Once. It wasn't my thing." And how the hell had the conversation taken this turn? Why couldn't she see how twisted he was? Why was she still sitting there, her fingers clutching his, instead of running out the door?

"Beth—"

"He's why I went to the chatroom, you know."

"What?"

"He used to tell me that—that I wasn't…you know. So I wanted to prove I was."

Anger seared his veins, burning and intense. His hand tightened around hers, tugged until she looked over at him. "Then he really is an asshole who doesn't know what he's talking about. Beth, you're one of the most sensual, giving women I've ever met. And you deserve so much more."

Couldn't she see that? Didn't she know? Her ex certainly didn't deserve her.

And neither did he.

He pulled her hand from his and sat back down, suddenly weary. Empty. It had been a long day, he was tired and drained. That had to be why he felt the way he did, so…out of sorts. Confused. He must not have explained things the right way. If he had, Beth wouldn't still be sitting here.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Adam looked over, saw the hesitancy in her eyes, the slight blush coloring her cheeks.

"What?"

"It's—it's personal."

Adam laughed, the sound flat and hollow. She was worried about asking something personal? After everything he'd just told her? "Sure. Okay. What?"

"When…when you were with your girlfriend, did you see anyone else?"

"You mean, did I sleep around on her? No. Not on her, not on anyone else I dated. I don't go for that shit."

"How about—I mean, I know we weren't dating but—never mind. Forget I asked." She looked away, the blush on her cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

"I haven't been with anyone else since the night I met you, Beth."

Her head spun around, her eyes widening in surprise. She shook her head, gave him a brief smile. "It's okay if you have. I understand. You don't have to say that just to make me feel better.

"I'm not saying it to make you feel better—I'm saying it because it's the truth. I might be a lot of things, but I'm not a liar."

Something flared in the depths of her eyes, something he couldn't decipher. Gratitude? Hell, he didn't want her gratitude. He wanted—

Fuck. No. No, he couldn't go there. Not after everything he just told her, not when he knew she'd eventually come to her senses and walk out.

It didn't matter. It didn't change how he felt. He wanted her. He wanted Beth. He didn't know what he was feeling, was afraid to put a name to it, afraid to look too closely at it. All he knew was that he wanted Beth.

And he didn't deserve her.

She leaned forward, concern etched on her face as she grabbed his hand. "Are you okay? You look—is it your shoulder? Your chest?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess. My chest."

"Do you want a pill? I'll get it for you—"

"No. No, I think I just need to lie down for a little bit. That's all." He pushed out of the chair, surprised when Beth stood up with him. She stayed right beside him as he walked down the hall, his steps heavy, shuffling. He kept expecting her to leave, to turn around and say goodnight.

To say goodbye.

She followed him into his room instead, hurried to the bed and pulled down the comforter and blanket and top sheet. She hesitated, studying the stuffed bear for a few seconds before moving it to the nightstand. Then she was back by his side, her hand steady on his arm as he climbed the two steps into the bed and stretched out.

"Do you need the pillows adjusted at all? Maybe one by your right side?"

"No, this is good for right now."

"Are you sure? If you need anything, just let me know."

If he needed anything.

Adam hesitated, called himself a fool for even thinking of asking. He shouldn't, had no right—

But he asked anyway.

"Actually, there is something you could do. If you want to, I mean. If not, I understand. You probably—"

"What?"

Adam swallowed, wondered how big a mistake he was making. Fuck, it wasn't like he could embarrass himself even more by asking, right?

"Would you mind laying down with me? Just for a little bit?"

He expected her to say no. He didn't expect the soft smile that curled her full lips, or the flash of something bright that shone in her eyes. She nodded and climbed up into the bed, stretched out along his left side and settled the blanket over them.

"Is this okay?"

Adam tightened his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Yeah. Perfect."