Page 42 of Broken Vows

“Theo mentioned you need help with math,” Levi says, nodding toward the books on the table. “I could help.”

“Do you know algebra?”

He looks momentarily blank, so I pull out my worksheet and show him.

Levi stares at the equations for a long second, brow furrowed in concentration. “I know how to do that,” he says, pointing at one of the problems. “Didn’t know it had a fancy name.”

“Algebra.”

He nods like the word means nothing to him. “Right. Letters pretending to be numbers. I can do that.”

I take the seat beside him at the dining table, trying my best to ignore the fact that he’s still shirtless. His blood-stained T-shirt is hanging over the back of the chair, and I’m not about to ask him to put it back on.

He runs through the first question and solves it almost straight away.

“Carmen, this is basic—” He catches himself and exhales. “I mean, it’s straightforward once it clicks.”

I blush. “It’s okay. I know it’s easy. My brain just hates numbers. I still use my fingers to count sometimes,” I admit quietly. “That’s why I dropped out of high school. I couldn’t keep up.”

The words hang between us. I don’t know why I told him that.

“Can’t be smoking hot and good at math too,” he mutters. “Wouldn’t be fair on the rest of us.”

I snort. “You really lay it on thick, don’t you?”

Levi frowns. “What?”

“The flattery.”

“I said you were bad at math.”

“You said I’m smoking hot.”

He looks confused. “Are we arguing about that part?”

“No. We’re moving on to the next question.”

I lean in as he goes through it. He explains everything slowly, step by step. When I get lost halfway through, he’s surprisingly patient. No trace of his usual irritation. Even on the fifth time he has to explain the same concept, he only sighs once before trying a different approach.

“Look,” he says, tapping the page with the end of my pen. “The letter’s not the problem. The letter’s just hiding the number. You move all this other shit out of the way until it’s standing there by itself.”

I work through the final steps, double-checking each one. When I finish, I hesitate, then look up.

Levi nods.

“I got it right?” I ask, unable to stop the smile creeping onto my face.

“Course you did.”

I beam at him. “Oh my God. I think that’s the first one I’ve ever got right. Thank you.”

He smiles back. Not the usual arrogant smirk that makes me want to slam a door in his face. Something softer.

It changes his whole face.

I look away first, because the warmth spreading through my chest is becoming ridiculous. It’s only one question. But for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel completely stupid.

I gesture to the worksheet, the pencil, the neat little steps he has written. “I wouldn’t have guessed you were academic.”