2. Leah （SPLIT）
Chapter two
Leah (SPLIT)
This makes no sense.
I watch her from the corner of my eye, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why, in the middle of a goddamn disaster, I still find her so damn attractive. I should be focusing on my brother—on the fact that he’s missing, that the hotel we were supposed to be in is now rubble. But no, my mind keeps wandering back to her, sitting beside me in my car, her short jean skirt and white blouse still covered in the dirt and grime from the earthquake, her lips slightly parted as she stares out of the window.
Hell, Silas, get a grip.
Ambulances whiz pass, sirens blaring as people run around, searching for their missing loved ones. Night has fallen, and we’ve spent the better part of the day searching for Ezra, all to no avail. Now, we’re parked outside our hotel, staring at the rubble.
“I can’t believe it’s gone,” she says, staring out the window at where we first met last night. “Of all the places to clear my head, I chose the city with an earthquake.”
“Clear your head?” I ask.
She turns to look at me. “Why were you at the museum?” Her brown eyes narrow.
“What do you mean?” I grip the steering wheel as my gaze drops to her lips.
“I met you last night, and we just happened to be at the same museum at the same time? I don’t buy it.”
“You should be glad I was there,” I mutter. “If I wasn’t—”
“I’d be dust, yeah, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve said thank you a hundred times today.”
“And I’ve told you not to mention it a hundred times, too.” I open my hands. My head is starting to throb. Today has been hell, and I still can’t find my brother.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“Notice what?” I ask. Her hair is almost golden-brown in my car lights, and her exposed thighs are almost porcelain pale.
“That you changed the subject,” she says. “Why were you at the museum?”
“Because Ezra was shooting a movie scene at the museum, and I came to support him,” I finally say. “That’s the whole reason I’m in Rome in the first place. For him. And now, I can’t find . . .” My voice trails off as I shut my eyes, letting the pain wash over me.
She’s silent for a little while before speaking again. “I’m sorry for pressing.”
I open my eyes, feeling a little better. “That’s okay, um—” I realize I don’t know her name. We’ve spent the majority of the day together, and she already saw me half-naked, but I don’t know her name.
“Leah.” She manages a small smile, her round face lighting up.
“Silas.” I stretch a hand, and she takes it in hers.
“Silas,” she repeats. “I’ve been calling you Towel Man in my head.” She laughs softly, a beautiful sound that makes me feel a little better.
As if remembering that my brother is still missing, her laughter disappears, and so does my little moment of peace.
She’s beautiful, yes. Gorgeous, even. Long, wavy brown hair that tumbles over her shoulders, dirt streaking her pale skin, giving her an almost ethereal glow despite the disaster we’ve just been through. Her brown eyes are a little dazed like she’s still processing the destruction around us, but they’re sharp underneath it all. She’s got this softness to her face that contrasts with how strong I know she can be. I've seen it firsthand over the past few hours.
And now she’s mumbling something about having nowhere to stay.
“I have a place,” I blurt out before I can think twice. “In Bracciano. You could stay with me.”
“Um—"
“Just for the night. You shouldn’t be out on your own.” I look out at the dark city. “I’m sure most hotels are fully booked after this disaster. Unless you want to stay at a shelter, in which case, I can try finding you one.”
I stare at her. I feel responsible for her even though I don’t know her. What’s that about?
Her head turns slowly toward me, her brows knitting together as if she’s trying to make sense of my offer. The hesitation on her face is unmistakable. And it stings more than I’d care to admit. Does she think I have ulterior motives? That I’m one of those men who’ll take advantage of a situation like this?
Maybe I’m not so different. I can barely keep my eyes off of her.
“It’s fine,” I add quickly, attempting to sound casual. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for a young woman like you to wander the streets of Rome at this hour. Not with everything going on.”
She’s tapping her fingers against her thigh. She’s done that a lot today when she’s thinking hard about something. Her fingers rise and fall with urgency.
She looks at me again, then sighs softly, nodding her head. “Alright. I’ll stay.”
“Great.” I nod, bringing the engine back to life. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to stay fully dressed this time.”
As we drive, I can’t stop myself from glancing at her. Her hair is a mess, and her clothes are still covered in dust from the chaos. Yet, despite everything, there’s something about her. Something that makes me feel alive. Even now, when I should be thinking about Ezra.
God, Ez. I hope you’re safe.
When we finally pull up in front of my bungalow, Leah’s eyes widen. She’s clearly not expecting a place like this. I can’t blame her. The house is beautiful—sprawling with an understated elegance that fits the quiet town of Bracciano—the lake shimmers in the distance, framed by the rolling hills of the countryside.
“You have a place like this? And you’re staying in a hotel?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief as we exited the car.
“I wanted to be closer to the city. Closer to Ezra.” My voice tightens at the mention of my brother, but I shake it off and lead her inside. The living room is spacious, with soft leather furniture and unused wood in the fireplace. There’s an airbed in front of the fireplace from the last time I stayed here.
I light a fire in no time. The glow from the flames cast long shadows on the walls, making the room feel cozier than I intended.
She stares around, taking it all in, her eyes softening. “It’s beautiful,” she murmurs.
“Yeah, it’s nice. Rarely use it, though,” I say.
“I can tell.” Leah looks around. “But you have someone clean it, don’t you? There’s no dust or whatever.”
I nod. “Take any room you want.” I gesture towards the hallway. “There’s running water. But I, uh, don’t have any female clothes, so you may have to make do with some of mine. You can pop your clothes in the washer.”
Leah nods as she turns away and disappears behind the bathroom door. I try not to look at her as she walks away. In the meantime, I dial the number of the cop I got earlier after the earthquake, my mind jumping back to Ez. The call connects; we speak as I try to get some answers. But still, nothing. Just promises.
I hang up the phone, frustration clawing at me. My chest feels tight, and the helplessness is starting to gnaw at me.
Then, I hear soft footsteps behind me. And when I turn, Leah is standing there, freshly washed, wearing one of the brown bathrobes I keep in the guest bathroom. It matches her wet hair and eyes. Her cheeks are flushed as her curls tickle her face.
She looks . . . different. Younger, somehow. I wonder how old she is. Twenty? Twenty-one? Her eyes are searching my face.
“He’ll turn up, Silas. I’m sure of it.” Her voice is steady, calm, like she believes it with every fiber of her being.
I wish I could believe it, too.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I hope so.”
She walks over to the fireplace, settles on the couch, and pats the space beside her. “Come, sit. You need to relax.”
I hesitate for a moment. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower,” I mutter, pointing toward the hallway with my thumb. “I’ll be back soon.”
I disappear for a few minutes, and when I come back in shorts and a new white shirt, the air feels heavier. Like something unspoken has filled the air in my absence. She’s sitting on the airbed in front of the fire, her legs tucked under her.
My heart clenches at the sight of her, and I don’t know why. She looks back at me and offers me a small smile. I return it as I join her on the airbed. We sit in silence for a moment, just listening to the flame crackle, and I can’t shake the feeling that this is too intimate, too close.
“You hungry?” I ask. “I could fix something for—”
“No, no,” she interrupts, pulling her robe tighter around her. “I’ll probably throw up if I eat anything.” She chuckles.
“I get what you mean.” I stare into the fire.
“You do?”
“You had an NDE. It’s completely normal to feel like this.”
“An NDE?”
“Near-death experience.”
She doesn’t reply. I’m still tense despite the fire attempting to comfort me with its warmth. Leah leans back, resting on her hands, and I can’t help but steal another glance at her. There’s something about the way the firelight flickers against her skin, the way her wet hair clings to her neck, her lips soft and pink from the shower's steam.
I hate myself for noticing.
“I remember this one time when Ezra and I were kids.” I start, not thinking about where I’m going with the story, just desperate to fill the silence, to get out of my own head. “He was always the daredevil. Once, he climbed this massive oak tree in our backyard, and I had to drag his ass down when he got stuck.”
Leah laughs softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sounds like you two are quite close.”
“Yeah.” My voice cracks, and I hate how fragile I sound. “We were.”
She shifts closer, her fingers brushing against mine on the bed, and the touch sends a jolt through me. It’s innocent. Barely anything. But it makes me realize just how close we’re sitting now. Her thigh is pressed against mine, and I can feel the warmth radiating off her body.
“Silas,” she says softly, turning her head to look at me. “He’s not gone. Don’t talk about him like he is . . .”
I swallow hard, nodding. “I’m trying. It’s just, hard. Why hasn’t he reached out?”
“Maybe he lost his phone in the chaos?”
I say nothing. I just sit still, thinking about Ez and how I can smell the fruity shampoo Leah used to wash her hair. If she’s noticed how close we are sitting, she’s not calling attention to it.
“You’re a little too good at this, you know?”
She frowns. “What?”
“Comforting strangers.” I let the words hang there, not bothering to sugarcoat them.
“Maybe I don’t see you as a stranger,” she says quietly.
There’s a long pause, and then, I ask, “Do you have any siblings?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s just me. My dad’s, well, we don’t really talk. It’s really why I’m in Rome. I wanted to get away from him.”
“Estranged?”
“Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”
There’s something in her voice, something that resonates with me. I know what it’s like to be at odds with family, even if it’s not the same. Our thighs are still touching as we sit side by side. I’m acutely aware of how soft her skin is against mine.
“You know, almost dying makes you realize how fleeting life really is,” Leah says. “One second you’re here, the next you’re not.” I keep staring at the dancing flames. “It makes you want to throw caution to the wind and do whatever you want.”
Then, I look over at her, and she’s already staring at me. The flames are dancing in her brown eyes. There’s something else in there, too. Something that makes my blood rush.
“What is it you want to do?” I ask, my voice a low growl.
“Right now?” she whispers, shifting even closer. “I really want to kiss you.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach out, brushing a strand of her damp hair behind her ear. My fingers linger on her skin, and how she looks at me—God, that look—it undoes something in me.
I should pull away. She’s much younger than me. This screams daddy issues. I should stop this before it gets any further. But I don’t.
Instead, I lean in, my lips brushing against hers, testing, tentative. She doesn’t pull back. She kisses me back, soft at first, then harder, more desperate, like she’s trying to drown out the chaos of the world around us with this one moment.
Her lips are soft, and my hands carve through her hair as I deepen the kiss, giving her my tongue. Suddenly, her hands are on my chest, pressing me down as our kiss intensifies. She moans into my mouth as I thumb her ear.
“That feels good,” she says breathlessly.
I pull back to look at her. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” I murmur against her skin, my voice low, almost a growl.
She responds with a breathless laugh, rising to straddle me. Her hair falls over my face as I lift my chin to meet her lips. Her robe slides off her shoulder, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath, and I kiss my way down her neck, savoring the way she gasps, the way her fingers dig into my hair.
“I’m so fucking wet already,” she rasps. The way she says it—so casual, so confident—it drives me wild. I pull her closer, my hardness pressing against her.
“Can you feel me?” I grunt, my hand covering a breast. “Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”
Leah’s eyes fall close, and I take a nipple in my mouth and suck lightly. She gasps as she reaches inside my shorts, wrapping her lean finger around my throbbing length. I tongue her nipple, leaving trails of saliva on the pink flesh.
“I want you.” She grinds against me, her hand not leaving my cock. “I want you inside me, Silas.”
Leah pulls my shirt off and pushes herself off me. She shoves me down and holds my gaze as she trails kisses down to my chest, tonguing a nipple while she strokes me. My pulse hastens as I feel myself throb in her fingers.
She’s completely naked now, her pale flesh almost glowing in the fire’s yellow light. I sit up and spin her around. She whoops, and we laugh breathlessly as I’m suddenly on top of her.
“I’ve wanted this since I walked in on you last night.” Desire dances in her brown eyes.
I pull down my shorts, enough to free my throbbing member, and press myself against her. She pulls my face down to suck on my lips. I can feel her wetness against me—warm, wet, and welcoming. She reaches down and sets me at her entrance.
“Fill me up, Silas.”
I push into her just a little, and she gasps, her nails digging into my arms. “Oh my God.” Her eyes roll closed. She pushes against me, desperate to feel the rest of me inside her.
“Keep your eyes on me,” I growl. “I want to see you take it all.”
Her eyes fly open, wide and wild. I fill her up, and her walls tighten around me. She feels good. Fuck, she feels too good. I stay like that momentarily to let her get accustomed to me.
“Silas,” she whispers, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. “Fuck me. Please.”
I move inside her, slow at first, but soon hasten. Her breasts press against my chest as the sounds of our skins hitting fill the room. She starts moving with me, her hips rising to meet my thrusts.
I growl against her skin, my need for her overwhelming everything else. I should stop—this isn’t right. I’m using her to forget my pain. But I can’t stop. Not when she’s arching beneath me, her body, warm and pliant, aching for more.
“Oh my God, Silas.” Her hands are everywhere, gripping my back, my hair, pulling me closer, needing more of me, all of me.
“Silas,” she gasps, her voice breathless. “I’m close. I’m so close. Please, don’t stop. Please, don’t—” her wetness tightens around me, “Fuck!”
I lift her legs but keep thrusting. Leah gasps like she didn’t expect it, but she welcomes it. She plants her hands on my chest, her eyes rolling into her head as her lips part in frenzied ecstasy.
“Come for me, Leah,” I grunt, feeling her tense up beneath me.
“Fuck! God! What are you doing to me? I’m about to—” The words die on her lips as her mouth remains open, a pained expression on her face.
I don’t stop.
“Look at me,” I rasp.
She opens her eyes, meeting my gaze as her body trembles as she falls over the edge. The look on her face sends me right after her, the release hitting me hard.
“Fuck!” I grunt, filling her up as she rides the waves of her orgasm.
When it's over, we're both panting, tangled in each other on the airbed, the fire still crackling in the background.
But then, guilt hits me like a freight train. I pull away, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. Leah curls into my side, her head resting on my chest, and I stay still, my mind racing.
What the hell have I done?
***
I didn’t sleep a wink.
I lie there in front of the dark fireplace. Sunlight is streaking through the window as dawn breaks. Leah is still sleeping beside me, her breathing soft and steady, her hand resting on my chest as if this is the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is for her. But for me?
This is wrong. So wrong.
My brother is missing, possibly dead. And I’m here, sleeping with a lady who’s half my age. I feel disgusted with myself. The fog of passion that filled my head last night is gone, and I’m left with the messy guilt to contend with.
Fuck.
I pull myself up, gently moving her hand away so I can proceed to sit on the edge of the couch. I can’t believe myself. My elbows are on my knees and my hands are gripping my hair as if I can hold my head together through sheer force. I check my phone for messages. Nothing. Not from Ez. Not from the cops. I put it down and close my eyes.
What is going on with me?
I glance back at Leah, and she’s up, staring at me. She looks vulnerable, her big brown eyes searching mine for something I can’t give her. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
“I can’t believe we drifted off to sleep here,” she says, smiling. I say nothing. What is there to say? I run my hand through my hair again. “Silas, is everything—"
"I should’ve known better," I mutter, more to myself than to her.
Leah pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping the robe tightly around her body. "Silas, I—"
“No,” I cut her off, shaking my head. “This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have . . . God, I shouldn’t have let this happen.”
I stand abruptly, grabbing the shirt I discarded in the heat of the moment and pulling it back over my head. My hands shake, but I’m trying to pretend they’re not. I need to get out of here. Get some air, clear my head. The guilt—no, the shame—is building too fast. I should be focused on finding my brother. Not on this.
“Silas, what are you talking about?”
“How old are you? Nineteen?” I ask it like an accusation. “Fuck, eighteen?”
“I’m twenty.” Her eyes are narrow with confusion.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I cover my face with my hand.
“What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter?” I laugh without humor. “This shouldn’t have fucking happened! What was I thinking?”
Leah’s voice is small when she speaks again. “Look, I know you’re going through a lot, but we can discuss this. I’m not some kid who—”
“Talk?” I scoff, running a hand through my hair. “What’s there to talk about? You’re a young woman, Leah. You don’t need me complicating your life.”
I can’t meet her eyes, because if I do, I’ll see that flicker of hurt in them. I don’t think I can take that. Not from her. Not after what I’ve just done. I already feel bad. I don’t want to feel worse.
I pace the room, needing to move, needing to get away from the suffocating feeling that’s pressing down on my chest. I hear her shift behind me, the soft rustle of fabric as she stands up. The air between us feels heavy and thick with everything that’s left unsaid.
She walks up behind me, close enough that I can feel her presence, her warmth. But she doesn’t touch me.
“Silas, it wasn’t just—look, it’s not that big a deal. Let’s go to the city together and try to find your brother. What happened doesn’t have to happen again.”
I feel her sincerity, the rawness of what she’s trying to say. But I can’t let that in.
I finally turn to face her, and the look in her eyes almost breaks me. She looks small and uncertain. And there’s a vulnerability there that wasn’t present before, a crack in the armor she’s been wearing since the earthquake.
I want to say something—anything—that will make this easier. But instead, the words that tumble out of my mouth are cruel. “Don’t mistake what happened here for anything more than what it was. A mistake. That’s all it was. That’s all you are. You’re a stranger to me. And that’s all you’ll ever be.”
The second those words left my mouth, I know I’ve hurt her. I see it in the way her face falls, in the way her lips part as if she’s about to say something but stops herself. Her eyes are glassy, filled with a pain I never wanted to cause.
“Um, wow,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly.
“Grab your things and leave.”
I clench my jaw and look away, unable to bear the sight of her like this. I’ve made it worse. I’ve pushed her away because it’s easier than facing my own guilt, my own feelings about what happened.
And now, there’s no going back.
“I can call a driver in town to have you taken to a hotel and—"
“I don’t need your driver,” she says, her voice hardening now. “I’ll find my own way back.”
I snap my head back toward her, stunned. “Leah, don’t be ridiculous. You don’t know Bracciano, and you—”
“No,” she cuts me off, this time, her voice firmer. She straightens her posture, her chin lifting. “I’ll be fine. I don’t need your help.”
I don’t know why, but her defiance, her sudden strength, stings.
She walks past me, heading for the bathroom. When she comes back out, she’s dressed in clothes from yesterday. Before she leaves, she turns back.
“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t just trying to sleep with you. I actually thought I could help you through this. But you’re too scared to let anyone in, aren’t you?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. She’s right. She’s so damn right. But I don’t have the guts to admit it.
“I hope you find Ezra, Silas. I really hope you do.”
She doesn’t wait for a response. She doesn’t need one. She grabs her coat and walks out the door, her footsteps echoing through the hallway before fading into silence.
And just like that, she’s gone. And I’m alone again.