Chapter 10
TEN
LEO
I’ve always had a sensitive stomach, and it always acts up when I don’t sleep. My insomnia has been so much worse since the accident, and while my neurologist told me eventually it would get better, he was wrong.
Of course, I don’t think he anticipated the level of stress I’d be under, and it’s not like we talked about what the fuck to do after the guy you hate with a passion pins you down to your bed and strokes your dick like he has something to prove.
And then did it again in a storage closet at his work.
Or the fact that while I dislike him, I liked those moments a lot.
More than a lot.
I’ve spent every night thinking about them, replaying every second in my head, wishing I’d kissed him a bit more because it’s weird that I know he likes having his shoulder bitten, but I barely know how his tongue tastes.
I tried to sleep somewhere around four, but by seven, I gave up entirely and searched the house for coffee. But of course, that was the one thing Teddy and I forgot while I was shopping, so now I’m walking to the café down the street because I need some caffeine in my system.
Besides, if I stay home, I’m going to work myself into another seizure, stressing the fuck out about what happens next when it comes to North. I already know that he and I aren’t meant to be. You don’t get to find a happily ever after with the guy who spends half his time talking shit about you.
I’m not a glutton for humiliation or punishment, and while I like dirty talk, insulting talk is not my thing. But can there be more? Would he want to do it again?
Do I want to do it again?
My brain is a foggy mess as I make my way down the street, but luckily, the walk is short.
I need my cane today, which makes me feel even more seen, and I hate when people stare.
My hip’s been stiffer since the seizure at North’s house, and I’m still trying not to think about that, because fuck, it was so fucking mortifying.
Thank god there’s almost no traffic at all this morning, and the breeze is cool but not cold, which is soothing for my frayed nerves.
It’s one of the many reasons I love living outside of the city.
Boston’s more accessible for people like me who aren’t allowed to drive, but Harmony Creek has always been like a separate little world.
I missed it like a limb when I was on the West Coast, and while being back feels tragic and sad, it’s still one of the few bright spots in my life.
I wish I were here under better circumstances, but it is what it is. Life is rarely kind to anyone.
“Morning,” the barista behind the counter calls as I walk through the shop door.
The café smells like cinnamon and freshly cut pine trees, which is odd but nice.
It reminds me a bit of this little shop not far from the house Liam and I rented.
Their Christmas flavors were always cinnamon and pine, and they had a fresh pine needle tea they’d serve every year that I was never brave enough to try.
I get a little pulse of nostalgia as I approach the counter and the smell gets stronger. Liam used to keep a canister of their Christmas coffee on top of the fridge, and I’d use it whenever we were out of the grocery store brands.
I chase away the ache of missing him in my chest, which is easier now that it’s gotten smaller, and I smile at the woman who’s clearly waiting for me to order.
“Sorry. Long morning,” I tell her.
She frowns, and I panic for a second, thinking that in my fatigue, my aphasia is kicking in. Then she says, “No worries. What can I get you?” She pushes a long, rectangular menu toward me, and I squint down at it before realizing that all the letters look like some odd alien language.
That happens when I’m overtired, and I hadn’t considered it that would affect me today.
Fuck.
I glance up at her and swallow thickly. “Um…”
“Oh, shit. Are you blind?” She gestures at my face, and I know she probably means my slightly crooked eye.
“Uh. No. Sometimes I can’t read. Head injury,” I blabber. Being tired loosens my tongue too. I never need to drink to spill my guts. I just have to miss a night of sleep.
Her face softens, and for a split second, she looks like North, which is so weird. I can see her name tag, but I can’t read the damn thing. “Do you like lavender?”
“Only in soaps.”
She laughs. “Me too. It’s so trendy right now, which is, like, weird? Anyway, what about vanilla? And I don’t mean the shitty stuff. Like genuine, from the bean.”
“I think I like it?” I don’t really know. I’m a simple guy.
“We have a really good latte with vanilla bean syrup.”
At this point, I’ll take anything so long as it keeps me from walking into traffic on the journey back home.
“Sure. And I need food. Uh…” I turn to the pastry counter, and that’s when I hear someone groan and mutter a word that I fucking hate more than anything.
A word people have tossed at me before because I can be a little slow sometimes while my brain processes things.
A word I thought the world had escaped while I was in middle school, but it seems to be really, annoyingly common now.
I feel my face heat, and as I straighten up, the barista leans across the counter.
“Get the fuck out, buddy.” Her tone is like ice, and the entire mood of the café shifts.
He makes a choking noise. “What? What the fuck is your problem? I mean, am I wrong? Why do they let people like him out on their own?”
I don’t look over at him. I don’t want to know his face.
“Because we don’t tolerate that shit here. Leave now, or I’m going to personally jump over this counter, take you by your balls, and dog-walk you out the door.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. My defenses and my filters and my shields are all down. I feel like the only surviving Star Trek redshirt after Kirk did something categorically foolish and only managed to survive by sheer luck.
And I’m glad no one’s a mind reader so they can’t hear what a goddamn nerd I am.
I realize in my laughter that the guy behind me and the two people he was with are gone, and now I’m alone. I swipe a hand down my face as I look back up at the barista, whose face is drawn and apologetic.
“Sorry about him.”
My brows lift. “You’re sorry?”
She shrugs. “More of a sympathy sorry that people like him exist.”
That’s fair. “It’s okay. I get that a lot on my bad days.”
“Okay, I officially hate all humans on your behalf. Listen, why don’t you go sit down. I’m going to bring you something amazing, and today will be on the house.”
I want to say no because I hate pity special treatment, but I’m also very tired and struggling to find the words to argue. I look up and meet her gaze and jolt when I realize she has familiar eyes with a dark ring around the iris. It takes me a second to remember where I’ve seen them before.
The last time was in the light of a courtyard while North made me feel like I had no business being there. That everything we’d done up to that point was a total mistake. My stomach twists, and I remind myself that this woman is not North. She’s a total stranger who probably doesn’t even know him.
“I’m Leo,” I tell her. I clear my throat and try for a grin.
She smiles back at me. “I’m West.”
“What’s with all the compass names?” When she frowns, I say, “My brother’s named Easton.” I don’t tell her about North. I don’t think I can say his name without being obvious that he’s ruined me.
West laughs. “My name is actually Westin. My mom got knocked up with me at one of those hotels and decided it was a pretty name. When I introduce myself as West, I get fewer questions.”
I manage a smile at her. Or, well, I think I do. She doesn’t seem put off by my expression or my inability to make any real sort of small talk. “I like it. It’s…unique?”
“Thanks,” she laughs, then waves me off. “Go sit. I’ll be there in a second.”
The café is almost entirely empty on a weekday, which means I don’t have a huge audience that saw some guy throw a slur at me before getting himself kicked out. I feel better about the whole thing as I drop into a chair by the window and lean my cane against the glass.
It makes a sound loud enough to draw attention, but I only catch a couple of pairs of eyes before everyone goes back to their business. I bow my head forward, taking deep breaths. My head is so messy from lack of sleep, and every time my mind and body are still, I think about him.
North.
And his hand on me.
The way it felt in my bedroom. The way it felt pinned to a shelf in a supply closet at his work.
The forbidden kiss he stole—the kiss I let him take.
And the way I would give almost anything for it to happen again.
It kills me to admit, even silently to myself, that he took the edge off this aching loneliness for the first time since I realized I was a widower.
I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to think about how North seemed to know what I wanted better than I ever could.
I don’t want to think about how after all these years of feeling almost dead inside, he woke something up, and now there’s a craving I won’t be able to satiate because no matter how much I’ve been craving him, I can’t give in. Not again.
I’m so fucking screwed.
“Vanilla latte and coffee cake.”
I jolt out of my thoughts as West appears, dropping down into the chair in front of me. She has one plate and two mugs, and as I pull mine toward me, she takes a long sip off hers.
“I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she says.
“Nope. I’m happy to eat with someone who threatened to walk a man out by the balls when he was being an ableist shit.”
She snorts, then hesitates for a second. “I hope you also know free food doesn’t mean I’m trying to come on to you. I have a boyfriend.”
I blink at her. “Does…that happen a lot? People think you being nice means you want to—do whatever?”
She rolls her eyes and sits back, cradling her mug between both hands. She has glittery painted nails and silver rings on almost all her fingers. “Yes. Men are pigs. No offense.”
I wave her off. I know firsthand how they are.