Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
NORTH
Walking into the house, I smell food cooking, and my stomach does a little flip when I see Leo carefully shuffling around the kitchen on his feet. It’s been two weeks of being together. Two weeks of domestic bliss that are probably coming to an end soon.
He’s healing quickly. His blisters are drained, and while there’s going to be scarring, it’s not nearly as bad as it might have been if he’d been in the fire any longer. And his pain is a lot less. I can see it on his face.
I want to be happy, but considering I’m here to tell him it’s time to walk through his house and sign off on the adjustor’s quote, it feels like one more minute on the clock counting down to when all of this ends.
I’m not foolish enough to think I was going to be able to keep this. It would be entirely unrealistic for the two of us to just move in together. To be some sort of happy family after two weeks of casual fucking in my bed.
It’s been too perfect.
The other shoe is going to have to drop, and that’ll probably be when we get around to telling Easton that Leo and I are a thing. Assuming that after he moves out, we’ll still be a thing.
Leo turns when he hears me coming in, and he opens his arms, allowing me to lift him onto the counter and kiss the shit out of him. Beside him, something’s simmering in a pot, and it smells like the chicken noodle soup he’s been trying to perfect.
“You’re early,” he says.
“Yeah. The adjustor came by the station to talk to your brother, and he wants us to meet him at the house in about ten minutes so you can do the walk-through and sign off on the paperwork.”
Leo stiffens in my arms, and I hug him tighter. He’s been avoiding his house like the plague, and I don’t blame him. He can probably save the structure, but there’s no saving what’s left behind. The house has been open to the elements for too long, and he’ll need to start from scratch.
God only knows what he lost from his former life, and he hasn’t spoken much about his husband, but I know there are things that belonged to him and Liam he’ll never get back.
“I’ll be with you,” I remind him.
“I know,” he says, sounding less tense than I expect him to. “Thank you.”
Pulling back, I help him down to the ground and watch as he shuffles from one foot to the other, testing the pressure of his weight. His feet are healing, but I know walking has been uncomfortable when he’s not in his thick slippers.
“Want to do dinner in bed tonight?”
He lifts a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to head back to the station after the house thing?”
He’s not technically wrong. This was supposed to be a twenty-four-hour shift, but I was able to weasel my way out of it. “Camilo let me have the rest of the week off. Special circumstances.”
Leo blinks at me. “I’m special circumstances?” When I bite my lip, he steps closer. “Does he know about us?”
“No. No one does. But, ah…he might suspect.”
Camilo has eyes and ears like a hawk. He sees things well before anyone else does, which is why he’s so good at his job, and why we’ll be fucked if he ever leaves this team. But he hasn’t said anything to me directly.
Not yet.
“You can tell him, you know. If you want. I mean, I know we’re not official or anything…” Leo trails off and turns back to the stove so he’s not looking at me when I wince.
We haven’t talked about what we are, or what this means, or where we want it to go. I’m too afraid to hear him say that it’s been fun, but it’s too much. That I’m not what he’s looking for.
And he’s been a little more distant the past few days.
I might not be very experienced, but I can read the writing on the wall, especially when it’s painted in big red letters.
“Come on,” I say, avoiding those thoughts. “Your soup can simmer while we get this over with.” Sliding my hand down his arm, I take his fingers and gently tug him away from the stove.
“I don’t want to burn your house down!” he says, pulling back.
I press him to the counter and kiss him while reaching over for the knob, and I turn it all the way down until the flame is almost nothing. “There.”
I catch one of his moans on my tongue, but I realize as he clings to me, he’s still shaking. Pulling back, I press my palms to the sides of his neck, and it’s there that I can feel his pulse hammering.
“Hey, sweetheart…”
His gaze catches mine, and in spite of the fear in his eyes, his lips soften into a smile. “Sweetheart?”
I flush. This is the second time that word slipped out. The first time, he didn’t acknowledge it because of a panic attack. But this time, he heard it loud and clear. “Sorry, uh—”
“No.” He leans into me, resting his cheek on my shoulder, and I wrap both arms around him. “I like it.”
I sway us gently until the trembling in his body eases, but when he’s still, I don’t pull back. The adjustor and Teddy can wait. “Why are you anxious?”
“Not anxious. Terrified,” he murmurs.
My arms tighten. “Of me?”
“Of fucking up again. You’ve worked so hard for this place. I don’t want to be responsible for a fire burning it down just because I want to make you soup.”
“Sweetheart,” I say just to make him smile. I can feel the curve of his grin against my shoulder. “This place is a shithole. You’d probably be doing me a favor if you set it ablaze.”
He pulls back, and there’s something like anger storming across his face. “Don’t.”
My brows furrow. “Don’t what?”
“Diminish what you’ve done here. Don’t act like this house isn’t everything to you.”
His words cut like the sharpest knife, and I struggle to swallow. “It really is nothing.”
Now he looks angry, and he takes a step away from me. “I don’t understand you sometimes. You work your ass off, you bitch at people who don’t see their own worth, but then you act like what you have—what you worked for—is nothing.”
I can’t seem to stop my own frustration bubbling up because it’s just one more thing he doesn’t get. He’s had mountains of trauma, but he’s never had to worry about the things that keep me up at night. He’ll never have to stress about not having a place to live or money to feed his family.
His life will always be more neat and more tidy than mine, and maybe that’s one more reason this can’t work.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I tug hard, trying to keep myself grounded. Everything I tuck into those tiny, dark boxes inside my head is now trying to burst out, and fuck, I won’t be able to handle it if I fully crack.
“Look, this isn’t the life I wanted, okay?
I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask for my mom to get knocked up when she was a teenager so I could be raised by a literal child.
I didn’t ask her to meet some douchebag who ruined her life.
I didn’t ask her to pop out a bunch of kids she couldn’t take care of! ”
He blinks at me, eyes wide and owlish. I’m ruining everything, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
Turning away from him, I press my hands to the counter in front of the kitchen sink and take several breaths.
“I didn’t ask to give up everything I cared about to take on a job I never wanted.
I didn’t ask to be so fucked-up in the head that I would be almost thirty before anyone was willing to touch me. ”
Warm fingers press against my hip, rucking up my shirt, and I jolt at the contact against my bare skin. But as much as I should push him away—as much as I want to push him away—I don’t.
Because I can’t.
Because he’s everything.
“I’m sorry.”
Shaking my head, I fight off a bitter laugh. “God, please don’t apologize. I have a good life, and I’m over here being a whiny dickhead because I had to give up one thing—”
“North.” The word hits me like a command, and my jaw snaps shut.
A moment later, Leo spins me and presses me against the counter with his hips.
One of his legs slots between mine, and his hand comes to rest over my pecs.
His fingers are a heavy weight, absently toying with the silicone in my nipple, and I fucking love it.
His other hand lifts, grazing my jaw until I’m looking into his eyes. They’re endless pools, gorgeous hazel, leaning toward brown like mossy earth, and I could get lost in them for days.
“You didn’t give up one thing,” he eventually says. “You gave up everything. And I know you did it because you love your sisters and your mom—even when they might not deserve you. You’re a good person.”
“Stop,” I beg him. Now he’s going to start complimenting me, and he’s going to mean it, and I don’t think I can take it.
He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. You need to hear it, okay?
I spent so many years at the end of my marriage knowing it was loveless.
Knowing that we didn’t belong together—that we were robbing each other of our chance to find the person who really made us happy.
And he died before I could make things right. ”
I stare at him. I knew that he and his former husband hadn’t been in their honeymoon phase, but I hadn’t realized any of this.
“So I’m not going to let a second go by without telling you what you need to hear.
What you deserve to hear. You’re a good person, North.
You’re one of the best people I have ever met.
You’re kind without reason, and you like helping people, even if it’s not what you want to do with your life.
You gave up everything without a second thought because that just made sense to you, and I’m going to guess no one ever thanked you for it. ”
I swallow, but it catches in my throat, and I have to clear it away. “I didn’t do it to be thanked.”
He laughs, though it’s clear he’s not amused. “I know, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have heard it at least once.” He hesitates, then says, “I know your mother isn’t very kind to you.”
My insides twist, and I have to look away.
Leo catches my chin, but this time, he doesn’t force me to meet his gaze. “You saved me, North. Not just literally. I was ready to roll over and fucking die because I screwed up my first chance at love, and I thought that was it for me. But you showed up and pissed me off at every turn—”