Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
“Me?” Ruth gaped at Leo. “You expect me to go looking with you.”
“Yes. Imagine the adventure.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. My father was the explorer. Me, I’ve never developed an urge to go mucking about in jungles and ruins.”
“You heard Sage. We have to work together.”
“I thought that meant me deciphering my dad’s terrible handwriting, not throwing on some hiking boots and bug spray to go trekking in the wilds.”
“It won’t be so bad.”
“Says you.”
“If you’re worried about predators, don’t be. I’ll keep you safe.”
Her eyes widened. “How about not expecting me to put myself in danger in the first place?”
“The danger will be minimal. Rest assured, anything looking to munch on you is no match for me. I once wrestled a bear and won.” He even had a picture somewhere of holding it in a headlock.
“Let me guess, you were drunk.”
“Actually, I did it on a dare. Won a nice chunk of cash too.”
“The most dangerous thing I’ve ever fought is my pickle jar, and it won,” she ruefully admitted, which led to him laughing.
“Don’t worry, Buttercup. I’ll save you from evil jars that won’t open.”
“You’re probably also handy grabbing things off high shelves,” she added, her lips curving in humor.
“The best. I can also change light bulbs in hard-to-reach places.”
“But do you take out the trash?”
“All the time,” he drawled with a wink.
“Wait, are you talking about monsters?”
“Who me?” he asked, feigning innocence and failing, judging by her laughter.
They completed the savory part of dinner chatting amiably, devouring the delicious meal, which was followed by a fluffy mousse that had him groaning. The entire meal was incredible, but more than that, it filled a strange void he’d not realized existed.
Companionship.
Since the deaths of Kylie and Olivia, Leo had avoided social interaction. He treated his need for food as a chore that had to be tolerated a few times a day. He often chose to dine alone, or, if cajoled into joining his brothers, shoveled whatever sat on his plate as fast as he could to escape—and drink.
With Ruth, he found himself leaning back in his chair, sipping on the iced tea that remained cool no matter how many times he poured from the pitcher. He enthusiastically devoured food not conjured out of thin air but made by her two hands. Remarkable hands that would look great wrapped around?—
Scree .
He put an abrupt halt to that train of thought and rose from the table. “It’s getting late. We should get a good night’s sleep before we tackle the journal tomorrow.”
Her gaze moved to the oversized bed, which could easily fit two, but a suddenly sweating Leo blurted out, “You take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair.”
“That won’t be comfortable,” she remarked.
“It reclines.” He should know, since he’d passed out in it more than once.
“I’ll take the chair. After all, this is your apartment.”
“You’re my guest.”
“Not by choice.” She stood to argue.
True. Still, he wasn’t that big of a dick. “I am not letting you sleep in the recliner.”
“And I am not taking your bed.” She moved closer as they bickered.
He leaned down to growl, “I insist.”
Bad idea. It brought her lips much too close for comfort.
And that perfect mouth uttered, “No.”
“Why must you be so stubborn?”
“Says the goat,” she snorted.
The floor rumbled underfoot, startling them both. It led to his gaze slipping past her to the far wall. A chuckle slipped out of him. “Looks like Tower has a solution.”
She glanced behind and gasped. “It split your bed in two.”
More like slightly shrunk the one and added another with a nightstand in between.
“Guess Tower doesn’t want us fighting.” It also obviously wasn’t trying to get them together like he’d feared. Good. No relationships, remember?
“It’s a perfect solution,” she declared. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to wash my face before I lie down. Do you have a spare toothbrush?”
“Tower will provide whatever you need, pajamas and toiletry-wise, in the bathroom.”
He couldn’t help but watch as she crossed the room and entered his lavatory. Stared at that sweet full ass.
Fuck me. He was goddamned hard and couldn’t do shit about it unless he planned to hide in the bathroom jacking off. Might be a plan, along with a cold shower.
When Ruth exited, wearing a neck-to-ankle nightgown, he slipped into the only place that had a door. Even shut he remained all too aware of her on the other side.
Couldn’t stop thinking of her as he stood under the cold jet spray of his shower. He tugged his cock, his shaft harder than it had been in years. He’d barely felt an urge to masturbate since the death of his wife. But tonight, with Ruth’s smile lingering in his mind, he stroked himself and came fast.
With his cock drained, he should have been safe, but the moment he emerged from the bathroom, wearing shorts rather than nothing at all—his preferred mode for sleep—he spotted the lump of her under the covers of the bed on the left and schwing! Instant erection. A good thing she didn’t face him, because he wouldn’t have been able to hide the tenting.
He flopped into the empty bed to the right, tucking under the covers to hide his boner, and, no surprise, didn’t fall asleep right away. How could he with Ruth so close? A woman who was all wrong for him. She was a professional therapist, who had her shit together and would obviously never date a broken man. Even if she did find Leo attractive, it wouldn’t matter because he’d sworn off relationships, although not because of some misguided loyalty to Kylie.
He couldn’t let anyone close. Didn’t dare. His wife and child died because of him. Died because he’d failed. Died and left him broken. Died and, ever since, living lost its appeal.
Until now.
It bothered that Ruth appeared to have awoken something that reminded Leo he had needs. Not just the sexual kind. He missed companionship. Missed teasing and bantering. Missed having someone across from him at the table—and in bed.
He turned and stared at the faint hump of her body under the blanket. While she might have roused the longing, she deserved better than him.
Eventually, sleep took him. Took him to that dark night. His nightmare became vivid to the point he could still smell the sewer. As that horrific moment replayed—as it had almost every night for the past few years—the bloodlust and thrill of the fight remained just as intense. The horror at finding Kylie’s and Olivia’s things still crushing.
But it was what came after that led to him drinking—and being unable to move on.
As the sewer faded to black, Leo braced himself. It didn’t help. Each and every time, her appearance sucker punched.
A small child appeared in front of him, clad in a simple white gown, her hair cut to her shoulders, her feet bare. His daughter, but not the baby he recalled. In his dreams—nightmares—Olivia aged as if she’d never died. She visited him almost nightly, amplifying his torment.
“Hi, Daddy.” Olivia lisped.
“Hi, baby girl.” Even if this wasn’t real, Leo couldn’t ignore her.
Dream Olivia smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s almost time.” She spoke more maturely than a child her age should.
“Time for what, baby girl?” She’d been alluding to some upcoming event these past few months, hence why he’d been drinking harder than usual. Sometimes, when he passed out from the alcohol, he managed to skip the nightly visits—then felt guilty the next day. Never mind the fact his subconscious tortured him with his guilt. When he intentionally ignored his dream daughter, he felt like an absolute shit.
“It’s almost time for us to be together,” Olivia chirped. “I have to be careful, though.”
“Careful of what?” He’d asked before, but she always gave a vague reply.
“I can’t get caught. Kylie wouldn’t be happy.”
“She doesn’t want you visiting me?” Blame his guilt for his conviction Kylie hated him from beyond the grave.
“Kylie doesn’t know. I kept it a secret.”
In his dream, Olivia never called her ‘mother.’ It was always Kylie. “You shouldn’t keep secrets from your mom.”
“I had to. She told me you were dead. When I called her a liar, she got so mad.” Olivia’s lips turned down.
“Oh, baby. I’m sorry about that. Your mom loves you.”
“No, she doesn’t. She told me she never wanted me to be born.”
It crushed him to hear that. Dream or not, no child should feel unwanted. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, she did.” Olivia canted her head. “She has mean eyes. You don’t.”
Said by the dream ghost of his child who never actually knew him. “I’m not a good man,” he murmured, not for the first time.
“You’re my daddy.” Words that arrowed his heart and almost sent him to his knees.
His voice emerged raspy. “How long before we’re together?” How long before he died and joined his baby girl?
“Soon. You’re going on a trip.”
“I am.” No point in asking how she knew. His dream, his mind.
“Don’t follow the lady into the forest. She’s not a nice lady. Follow the man with one eye.”
“Wouldn’t the lady let us meet sooner?” No point in delaying his demise.
“No. You have to follow the man. With one eye,” Olivia emphasized. “And don’t let the doctor lady have a bath by herself.”
Ruth? Before he could ask another question, Olivia glanced over her shoulder. “I have to go.”
“Go where?” he asked, again, not for the first time.
Olivia’s lips turned down. “Time for another visit to the bad place.”
Hearing that always tightened his stomach because he couldn’t help but think of Hell. Had Kylie somehow dragged their baby daughter to the Inferno? And, no, it wasn’t odd he believed in heaven and hell. After all, magic did exist and powers beyond anyone’s comprehension inhabited this galaxy.
“I wish I was there to protect you, baby girl.”
“Soon, Daddy. Soon we’ll be together forever.”
With that, she faded, leaving Leo broken.