by T. K. Leigh
“Thank you.”
“You for me, Lo.”
I pull my head away from his chest, meeting his eyes. “Me for you.”
“For the rest of our lives.” He leans in, placing a delicate kiss on my lips before dropping his hold. “I’ll be right up with your tea.”
Chapter Seven
Weston
I watch as Londyn drags herself up the stairs and disappears into the master bedroom. And that’s exactly what it feels like. Not like she’s making a conscious decision to put one foot in front of the other. It’s like she has to force her body to move forward and not wallow in the present. Or the past. I hate it. Hate seeing her like this. Hate not knowing what I can do to fix it.
Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, I make my way into the kitchen and grab the tea kettle, filling it with water before setting it back onto the stove and lighting a burner. I try to concentrate on the mundane task and not Londyn, but that’s easier said than done.
In the six months I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her so broken, so depressed, even when she finally shared the secrets of her past.
The sparkle in her eyes is gone. Her smile, on the rare occasion she offers it, feels contrived. She’s just a lifeless shell, the soul of the woman I’d do anything for a distant memory.
I knew this wouldn’t be easy. That things wouldn’t go back to the way they were. But I didn’t expect her to look like the life had been sucked right out of her. Like she’s forcing herself to go through the motions of living until she gives up. What I wouldn’t give to make Nick suffer as Londyn is now. To inflict the same pain, the same emptiness. To make him live in a perpetual state of fear that today is the day his past finally catches up to him.
All I can do is pray he’ll get what he’s due. That karma will eventually pay him a visit.
At the whistle of the kettle, I snap out of my increasingly angry thoughts and turn off the burner. After steeping some green tea and adding a touch of honey, the way Londyn prefers it, I head upstairs.
As I approach the open door to the master bathroom, I pause, not wanting to sneak up on her, the sound of the running bath water drowning out my footsteps. I linger in the doorway, watching as she slides off her jeans, leaving her in a cami and her panties.
Sensing my presence, she turns toward me. I inhale a sharp breath, my grasp on the mug loosening, causing it to fall to the tile floor and shatter around me.
“Londyn...,” I quiver, my gaze glued to a huge red and purple area spanning her hip.
I blink, the mere idea of what could have caused that making bile rise in my throat. I scan the rest of her frame for any other bruises. My blood boils when I notice the imprint of a hand on her bicep, as well as more around her wrists that I hadn’t seen earlier with her sweater on. But now that she’s practically naked, they’re glaring.
“It looks worse than it is,” she says weakly, but doesn’t look directly into my eyes. She forces her lips into a smile, then grabs a towel, bending down to clean up the tea and broken glass. I notice her wince, the movement causing her pain.
“What did he do?” My jaw tightens, nostrils flaring.
I know he attacked her. She’d told Hazel that much. But now that I see physical proof of his assault, it only increases my hatred for this man and the justice system that, instead of getting her help, locked her up. Treated her like a criminal.
The injustice infuriates me.
She straightens, her dark eyes imploring me. “Wes, please.”
“What. Did. He. Do?” I demand once more, my voice strained.
“He did enough, Wes,” she retorts, throwing the towel to the floor. “Okay? He did enough. That’s all I’m ready to tell you right now. So I’d appreciate some space. What happened yesterday… The things he said… The things he did…” She squeezes her eyes shut and draws in a deep, steadying breath before returning her pained, empty gaze to mine. “It’s the last thing I want to talk about. All I want right now is to scrub every inch of my body and forget. So please… Let me forget.”
“I don’t know if I can, Lo. It’s killing me not to know what he—”
“If you think it’s killing you not to know what he did, imagine how it must be for me to be forced to relive it.” Her voice comes out strong and determined, echoing against the tile in the bathroom. “Imagine what it’s like to not only have to suffer through it once, but again. And again. And again.”
I part my lips, struggling to find the words to convince her that talking about it will help her heal. But then I remember Sophia’s admonition from earlier. That the best thing I can do is give her my unwavering support. So that’s what I do.
“I’m sorry, Lo. I didn’t think—”
“I know.” She offers me a smile, almost like she’s trying to comfort me when I’m the one who should be comforting her. I just don’t know how. Don’t know what to do or say to make this better. Will things ever get better? Or are we a ticking time bomb? “I just can’t relive it right now. Okay?”
“Okay.” I nod, a heaviness settling on my chest.
All my life, I’ve been a problem solver. That’s why I’ve always enjoyed my line of work, particularly the technical aspect of designing buildings. Whenever faced with a problem, I could come up with a myriad of solutions.
But this?
I have no solution. No way to solve it.
“I’ll get you a fresh cup of tea,” I say.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t do anything else to make this better, and it’s killing me. So let me at least make you a tea. Please?”
Her eyes glisten with tears, and she nods. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
After pushing the towel and broken glass into the corner for the time being, I head back down to the kitchen, trying with everything to erase Londyn’s battered and bruised body from my memory. But I can’t.
Jaw clenched, I grip the edge of the counter, heat rushing through me. I’ve never considered myself a violent man. As Gampy often reminded me, the pen is mightier than the sword. But right now, I’d give anything to finish the job Londyn started.
Spying a whiskey bottle, I grab it, pouring a healthy portion into a rocks glass. I bring it to my lips, downing practically the entire thing in three gulps, wincing through the burn. But I need it. It takes my mind off the excruciating pain wrenching my heart. Slamming the glass onto the counter, I pour more liquor into it. I don’t care that it’s a little after noon on a Saturday. I need this right now.
I’m about to take another large swallow when my phone pings in the pocket of my jeans. I pull it out, expecting a text from Hazel or Diego checking in on Londyn. Instead, it’s from my sister.
Julia: Thought I’d let you know that Nick’s surgery was successful and the hospital will be releasing him tomorrow. He’ll be reevaluated once the swelling goes down to determine if he needs shoulder replacement, but for now, they’re hopeful he’ll heal completely. Wasn’t sure if you cared, but figured I’d update you either way.
I grip my phone, my anger rising yet again. I fight the temptation to text back and tell her how nice it is that Nick’s injury will heal when Londyn may never recover from what he did.
But I don’t.
I click off the phone, about to shove it back into my pocket, but stop myself.
Julia’s still my sister. Based on the stories Londyn told me about how conniving her professor was, I can’t shake the feeling he may have manipulated Julia, too. As much as I hate the idea of her taking his side, I need to try with her. So instead of ignoring her, I unlock my phone and type out a quick reply.
Wes: Are you okay?
The message is marked delivered, then read. A text bubble pops up below my message. Several seconds pass as I await her response. Then the text bubble disappears for a bit before reappearing. This goes on for several minutes before her reply finally comes.
Julia: Yes.
I contemplate calling her out on the fact
that she’d typed out a different response before changing her mind, but I don’t want her to shut me out altogether. Just like I have to hold onto hope that Londyn will get through this, I have to hope Julia and I do, too. That Julia will realize the truth. That she won’t allow her desperate need to be accepted to control her like it has most of her life.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I heat up the kettle again. Once it boils, I prepare a fresh cup of tea and carry it upstairs.
When I enter the bathroom this time, Londyn’s in the tub, her body hidden beneath a blanket of bubbles. Her eyes are closed as she leans her head against the marble ledge, a look of serenity washing over her. Not wanting to disturb her, I gingerly set the mug on the counter and retreat, padding back down the stairs, allowing Zeus to remain at his post outside the bathroom.
Feeling like it should be after one in the morning instead of the afternoon, I collapse onto the couch, the past twenty-four hours catching up to me as exhaustion consumes me. I lay my head on the accent pillow, immediately enveloped in Londyn’s familiar scent. I close my eyes, swallowing through the tightness in my throat at the mere thought of how frightened she must have been when I introduced Nick at the masquerade ball. And I did nothing to help her. Missed all the clues. And I’ll have to live with that the rest of my life.
Hundreds of scenarios about what happened in that bakery fill my thoughts. Each one is more agonizing and debilitating than the previous. My anger and rage over the situation growing with every heartbeat, I jump up and storm back into the kitchen to pour yet another whiskey. Alcohol won’t solve anything, but I need something to numb the pain.
After I slam back another large gulp, I take a deep breath to pull myself together, then head upstairs to check on Londyn. When I enter the bedroom, it’s dark, all the lights off, a few towels discarded on the floor. Londyn’s curled up on what has become her side of the bed, Zeus snuggled up with her, offering her all the comfort he did me when I first found him. Her cheeks are wet with tears, body trembling through her silent cries.
I thought staring into her vacant, lifeless eyes was the hardest thing possible. Then when I saw her bruises, I didn’t think things could get much worse. But this… Watching her break down and not being able to do anything destroys me. I wish I could flip a switch that would make everything okay. Prepare a magic potion that would transfer all her pain to me. But that doesn’t exist.
So I do the only thing I can to let her know I’m here for her. That I’m not going anywhere. That I support her.
Grabbing the blanket off the foot of the bed, I unfold it, draping it over her. Hesitantly, I crawl onto the mattress behind her, expecting her to ask me to leave her alone.
But she doesn’t.
Finding my hand, she links her fingers with mine, bringing my arm over her frame and squeezing tightly. I mold my body to hers, burying my head in her hair, relishing in the feel of her.
“I’d take away your pain if I could.”
“I know.”
Chapter Eight
Londyn
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you today?” Wes asks Monday morning when he walks into my kitchen after showering.
Since New Year’s Eve, I haven’t stepped foot inside his house. I used to spend most of my free time there. But that was before.
Now, I need the security of my condo. A place that’s never held any trace of him. Luckily, Wes didn’t question my reluctance. Instead, he brought a few things over to my place, including Zeus, which I’m grateful for. While I’ve always loved animals, I never understood how people considered them a form of therapy. Until now.
Whenever I was on the verge of a breakdown these past few days, memories of the attack threatening to drown me, Zeus seemed to sense it, nuzzling me and providing the comfort I needed.
“You’ve already done so much,” I respond with a smile. “And I’ve heard your phone ringing off the hook with what I can only assume are work calls. You can’t put your life on hold for me.”
“But I would, Lo.” He narrows his gaze on me, voice laced with sincerity. “You know that.”
“I just want life to get back to normal. Or as normal as possible, all things considered. And that means getting back to work.”
“Okay,” he says with a long exhale. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
It doesn’t make sense for me to ask him to give up another day of work so he can sit in the waiting area of Sophia’s law firm while a detective interviews me. He needs to go on with his life. Just like I need to go on with mine, even though my life bears little resemblance to what it was mere days ago.
“Then I suppose I should get going.” He leans down, brushing a soft kiss on my temple. When he pulls back, his eyes meet mine. “Want me to pick up dinner on the way home? Or I can cook something.”
“Actually, I might hit up the grocery store and get some things. Cooking might be a nice distraction for me.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Okay.” He turns from me and whistles for Zeus to follow, which he obediently does. As he’s about to open the door, he stops, facing me once more. “I almost forgot.”
“What?”
“This.” He reaches into the inside pocket of his coat, revealing a slim box.
“Wes,” I sigh, “I don’t—”
“Please, Londyn…” He may be giving me a gift, but I can’t shake the feeling this is more for him than me. His way of feeling like he’s doing something. “Let me do this for you.”
“Okay.” With a slight smile that offers the barest hint of assurance, I take the proffered box.
When I open the lid, I squeeze my eyes shut. He never ceases to amaze me with his ability to know exactly what I need.
“Wes…,” I half-breathe, half-choke out, returning my gaze to the contents. A delicate chain made to look like snakes ends in a glittering pendant with Medusa’s face, her bold and powerful eyes prepared to turn everyone who crosses her to stone.
“I went back and forth over this. Wasn’t sure if you’d want it. If you’d be able to stomach wearing what some might say could be a reminder.”
He extends his hand toward me, silently asking permission. Without saying a word, I hand it to him, nodding. He carefully detaches the stunning piece, setting the box on the counter, then steps behind me. When he brushes my curls to the side, a shiver rolls through me, as innate and uncontrolled as my heart beating or my lungs drawing in oxygen. A response my body is pre-programmed to have whenever he’s near.
He leans closer, the heat of his breath on my skin causing my pulse to increase. I swallow hard, a dozen sensations fighting for attention within me. Sensations I didn’t think I’d experience again. Sensations I thought I’d shut off as I simply drifted, unfeeling, through the motions of life.
Apparently, Wes possesses the key to the “on” switch.
When he finishes and steps in front of me, I glance down at the medallion sitting just above my cleavage, Medusa’s eyes two glittering emeralds, diamonds sparkling on the pendant and snake-like chain.
“It’s breathtaking, Wes.” I meet his affectionate gaze. “And perfect.”
He takes my left hand in his, brushing his thumb along my knuckles, paying particular attention to my ring finger. Then he shifts his eyes toward mine again.
“I know this is difficult. That you probably feel like you’re being torn in a thousand different directions. I can’t stand here and pretend to have the faintest idea of what you’re going through. And I can’t even begin to understand how difficult what you’re about to do will be.
“When you told me what happened all those years ago, I’d never been so angry before in my life. Not just at him, but at the system that failed you. That treated you like the predator instead of the victim. And that’s why I wanted to give you this necklace. Why I felt in my soul you should wear it. Despite everything Medusa went through, she was a fighter. Even after her death
, her powers remained. Some would argue they were even more potent.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, chin wavering as his voice becomes choked with emotion.
“So it’s my hope that this necklace helps you draw the strength Medusa possessed. Helps keep your demons at bay. Helps serve as a reminder of just how fucking amazing you are. Today, and every other day you feel lost.”
Overwhelmed by his gesture and reassurances, I clutch his cheeks in a fierce grip, pulling his lips toward mine.
Since I was released on Saturday, Wes has been hesitant around me. The most intimate thing he’s done has been kissing my forehead or a slight peck on my lips. But I need more. Need to drown myself in him.
“Kiss me,” I beg.
A flicker of uncertainty crosses his expression, seemingly torn between giving me what I need and not doing anything that might upset me. But his undeniable craving for me wins out.
With nothing short of raw desire, he loops an arm around my waist and yanks me close. His breath warms my lips, anticipation coiling inside me as I wait for my first taste of him in days. The seconds stretch as the space between us slowly evaporates, my heart hammering in my chest.
When his mouth finally lands on mine, I sigh. It’s a light connection at first, like our first kiss all those months ago, both of us testing the waters. And just like that first touching of our lips, sparks shoot through me, hunger blooming from my core and spreading through me like a wildfire.
Arching into him, I swipe my tongue along his bottom lip, eliciting a groan from him.
“God, honeybee. I needed this.”
He presses his lips more firmly against mine, opening his mouth, our tongues tangling in a soulful dance as he kisses me with desperation. With admiration. With veneration. In his kiss, he communicates everything words alone cannot. That words will never be able to convey.