Smother (30 page)

He slowly slid the paper her way.

Reese glanced down, her gaze captured by the black ink. Her brows furrowed as she looked it over. It wasn’t a picture. It was words. The penmanship was bold and slanted, but each tip of a letter softened and faded into the paper like it was part of it instead of something added to it.

‘In my mind, I am always hugging you. When you feel lost, think of that.’

“What is this?”

“Words.”

She squinted her eyes at him. “Really? You and your obvious statements.”

“Saw it in a book. Made me think of you.”

“Why?” Reese’s voice was faint, riddled with unwanted hope.

“You need hugs. An infinity amount of them.”

With a trembling hand, she lifted the paper to her face to better trace the letters with her eyes. She imagined Leo’s hands creating them, the confident strokes of his pen as he worked. She set the paper down and looked at him. “Are you in trouble with anyone?”

Leo slanted his gaze down. “No.”

“Would you tell me if you were?”

“No.”

“Is that your favorite word?”

“No.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mick made it sound like you could be.”

A scowl twisted his face. “Mick talks too much.”

“Better than not at all.”

He narrowed his eyes at her.

“I’ll find out on my own if you don’t tell me.” It was a threat, but she meant it.

Leo took two steps toward her, closing the distance between them. He loomed over her, dangerous and dark. “Don’t try.”

“If my father, or anyone else, does anything to hurt you, I will go Leo on them.”

Half of his mouth lifted. “Go Leo on them?”

“You heard me.”

“No one’s going to come after me.”

“How do you know that?” Her voice came out thin and high. “Mick said things, and my dad said things—”

“You saw your dad?”

“Yeah. I forgot to tell you.” She didn’t forget—she hadn’t wanted him to know.

He walked closer, until there was nothing but less than an inch between them. “Stay away from your dad.”

“I know that! I didn’t seek him out. He came to my house.”

“What did he say?”

“That you’re out of the club, or whatever the hell he calls his illegal operation. That Ryan Michaelson is dangerous.”

Leo stepped back, shoulders loosening. “I am out. By choice. I’m done with that.”

“You say that, but how does one ever really cut ties with that kind of life? My father supposedly left us because of it. How do you know someone won’t come after you someday? You’re never really safe.” The last word throbbed with fear and she turned away.

Heavy hands carefully touched her shoulders and rested there. Reese’s first instinct was to stiffen and shy away, but she made herself relax instead of retreating from it. “That world will never touch you. I won’t let it.”

“What about you?” she wondered. “Who’s going to save you from it?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Have you ever killed a man?” She stared out the frosted window as she waited for his answer. Snowflakes wisped down from the sky like tendrils of deception. Some of the most beautiful things were deadly. The sun, love, devotion. Promises. Words. Truths.

As though he knew her thoughts, Leo’s grip tightened microscopically before it disappeared.

She looked at him and he turned away. They played games, she and Leo. One of them tried to catch their eye while the other looked away. One of them pushed while the other pulled. She wanted him, she didn’t. He placed himself in her life only to move out of it when she got too close.

Leo leaned one hand against the counter and partially averted his face. “Does it matter so much?”

Reese swallowed. “Shouldn’t it?”

He looked up then, head still bowed, eyes dark and brooding under lowered eyebrows. “You know me. Does it matter?”

“That’s the thing—I don’t know you. I don’t know much of anything about you.”

His lips flattened. “You know me in the only way that means something.” He tapped his chest, and her eyes became riveted to the place where his heart beat.

Reese took a deep breath. He was right. Whatever he’d done throughout his life, he’d done it because he’d had to, and for no other reason than that. No one and nothing could make her doubt that. She nodded jerkily, accepting him exactly as he was, like he had for her.

Flaws, mistakes, tragedies, ugliness—she accepted it all.

“You’re right. But you’re also wrong.” She took a deep breath and continued. “If you want me to trust you, then you have to give me something to trust. You can’t keep turning away. I know I do it, but you do it too. I can’t trust someone who hides themselves from me. You have to work on that. Okay?”

Reese waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. With a sign, she told him, “I’m going to go now.”

Leo turned his head from her and slowly nodded. So easy to withdraw and shut down. It was like she hadn’t even spoken. Anger heating her skin, Reese stomped toward the exit.

“Okay.”

Reese stopped near the door and immediately turned back to him. “What?”

Leo met her gaze. “Okay. I’ll work on it.”

Her pulse went into haywire as she catapulted herself against him. Reese threaded her arms in the space between his torso and arms, all of him frozen as she did so. She knew why she acted the way she did, but she hadn’t paid attention to his habits until recently. Leo reached out to her at the same time he tried to hide, a perfect contradiction, like her. He needed hugs too. He needed someone to care enough to make him want to better himself. And that would be Reese.

A staggered breath left him when she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him hard and resting her cheek against his chest. Reese inhaled his scent, his nearness creating a content warmth in her. Long seconds later, he lifted his arms, the movement jerky and hesitant, and he returned the hug. His chin rested against the top of her head, his arms tightened, overlapping on her back like a shield against anything and anyone. She let her eyes close and sank into the embrace.

“Do you ever get scared?” she murmured.

The silence dragged out. She sighed, the weight of it threatening to divide them. But then he spoke. One word, softly given. Rough with emotion.

“Always.”

She held him tighter. “Me too.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” he murmured against her hair.

“Great. We’re good then, ‘fraidy cats that we are.” Reese pulled back and flashed a bright, fake smile at him. “I started talking to someone. A therapist.”

A frown formed between his eyebrows, but he didn’t say anything.

“Is that good?” Why was she acting like she needed his approval?

“Do you think it’s good?”

“Yes.”

“It’s good then.”

Reese smiled faintly. “I guess I’ll see you . . . when I see you.”

“I can drive you home.”

“No. Thanks. I want to walk.” She needed the icy air to clear her head so she could rationally think. “See you later.”

Leo swallowed, nodding brusquely as he moved farther into the room, widening the distance between them. “See you.”

“Hey.”

He stopped.

“Tell me one thing, and then I promise I won’t bring it up again.”

Leo waited.

“Did you ever talk to Morgan?”

All expression left his face. A plea was in her eyes, heard in each gasp of air that entered and left her lungs. She wouldn’t verbally beg, but she was just the same. Silently.

Leo looked at her, the open grief on his usually indifferent face enough to make her go still. “Once. It was the night she died.”

He didn’t say the words, but Reese heard them just the same. He wished he’d done more. He could have saved her. Why didn’t he stop her? She knew what he was thinking, because she’d thought the same herself, many times. Seeing someone else go through it put it into perspective for her. Reese could tell him it wasn’t his fault, but those words didn’t take the guilt away.

“Your dad asked me to check up on her.” He paused and looked at Reese. “I did that from time to time.”

She didn’t say anything, knowing he did the same for her. Reese looked down, wondering what parts of her life he’d seen that she wished he hadn’t. There were a lot to choose from.

“I was turning down the street to her house when a car dropped her off at the curb. I parked my truck and tried to look busy, shuffled some stuff around like I was looking for something.” He rubbed his forehead and looked down. “Morgan came over and asked for a cigarette. Told her I didn’t have any and that those things would kill her. She laughed and said that was why she wanted one.”

An apology was in his expression. “She went into the house and came back out about an hour later. Drove away. I reported the little information that I had to your dad, and left.”

Reese’s throat burned as she fought to keep tears inside. She looked away from him.

“I watched you closer after that. And when I saw you crying that night you got fired, I couldn’t stay away any longer. I had to do something. It still wasn’t enough.”

“You didn’t just watch me. You put yourself into my life, my world, and you tried to form it into the way you thought it should be.” Reese’s voice was quiet, and though her words could be interpreted as accusing, there was none in her tone.

“Don’t make it sound ugly or wrong. It wasn’t like that.”

She blinked at the heat in his voice.

Leo continued, “I felt helpless. It was the only way I knew how to help without getting too close.”

“News flash, Leo, you got too close.”

He grimaced, bowing his head. “I know that.” He looked up. “Don’t regret it.”

The clenching sensation in her chest released some. Reese opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t know what. They stared at each other, and as they did, another piece of understanding flitted between them, grew, and meshed them tighter together. Leo’s eyes never left her face, not until she turned away.

Reese left the shop, feeling like she left the best part of her back there with Leo. Huddling in her jacket, she took her gloves and hat from her pockets and put them on, preparing for the ten-minute walk ahead. Ten minutes wasn’t a long walk—ten minutes in twenty degree weather was. She stared at the street that led to her house, turned on her heel, and headed toward the coffee shop instead.

Leo’s confession didn’t make anything better, but in a way, it did to her.

The urge to smoke was powerful and Reese needed a non-destructive way to deal with it. She’d tossed out her last pack of cigarettes the day she moved into the house in a total body and mind cleansing moment. Now she wondered why she’d done such a stupid thing. Kicking at the crunchy snow as she walked, she decided hot chocolate could fill the need, and warm her.

There was Liz’s smart mouth to consider as well, but that actually made her smile in anticipation. She’d found her new hangout at ‘Liz’s.’ Reese enjoyed coming up with outrageous concoctions that sometimes were epic, and other times, failures. Liz didn’t seem to mind her company, so for now, it was a good situation. They were almost friends, if their snappy retorts could be taken as conversation and their competitive drink-making could be seen as working together as a team.

There are times, when I look at my tattoos, and I want to weep.

Each black stroke is a life, abused and discarded. Unloved. Lives I never knew, some I did. This is my tribute to them, given to me in my darkest times, when all the crying shadows of the world reached into me and grabbed hold.

They haven’t let go. I can’t forget. I won’t. The ink makes it impossible.

One of those tattoos is for me.

One for Morgan.

One for Reese.

~ Leo

She was painting the bathroom celery green when the doorbell chimed. Covered in paint and dressed in rags, she made her way to the front door. The man standing outside her house was still, dark, and cold. Fear and worry grabbed her and it took tremendous effort to lift a hand to open the door. She’d hoped she’d never see him again. Her first thought was of Leo and it was filled with dread. Why else would he be here?

Reese stared at her father, taking in the blackened right eye and swollen cheek. The life he led was ugly, and its ugliness was showing through in his battered face. She told him with her eyes that she didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear his words. His grim face acknowledged that.

He didn’t come inside, standing on the doorstep and letting cold air push past him and into the house, into her. “I thought you would want to know—” He paused. “—is dead.”

A roar started in her ears, wiped out his words, turned them faint and weak. Her fingertips tightened on the door, sure she had heard
Leo Chavez is dead.
Loss hit her fast and hard, stole her breath from her. It crushed her heart and turned her into a limp pool of grief. She tried to talk, but her brain wouldn’t tell her lips to move, and her vocal chords were lost. If he was dead, she might as well be too.

Her father reached for her, snapping her back to reality, and she jerked away. “You should sit down. You don’t look well.”