Chapter 10 - Violet
When Lee finally emerged from the bathroom, I pushed away from the wall where I’d been waiting for him.
He’d pulled on the blue flannel pants and shirt I’d left for him.
The pajama bottoms skimmed his body, the waistband hanging low on his hipbones.
Part of me wanted to peel up his shirt and get more quality time with the abs on display earlier.
Lee didn’t flaunt his body, but I couldn’t help noticing how much he’d filled out since the lazy summer days at the beach in high school.
So much had changed. And in some ways, nothing had.
He avoided my gaze, seeming to take extra care placing each crutch as he maneuvered toward the stairs.
Was it my imagination that his cheeks were flushed? He stumbled a bit, and I rushed to steady him. Slowly, we made it downstairs, me holding my breath with every awkward step. All joking aside, the thought of him trying to manage the stairs without my help terrified me.
He propped the crutches against the pullout downstairs. My shoulders loosened as he relaxed against the back of the couch.
“Do you need anything else before I go to bed?” I asked.
His entire body shuddered. Not my imagination. Brushing my hand against his forehead to check for a fever wasn’t exactly subtle. He flinched, and I pulled back like I’d touched a hot stove.
“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
He bit the words out. Harsh. Abrupt. He’d never spoken to me that way before. Sure, Lee was gruff. Often quiet. But not mean.
Maybe he saw the flash of pain that I couldn’t quite hide. Remorse washed across his features, softening them, something gentle creeping into his blue eyes.
“Vi, I’m afraid I’m messing this up.”
The raw vulnerability in his tone made me want to forgive him.
“I hate being so helpless, but it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I appreciate your help.”
“I know you’re used to living alone.” I kept my words measured. Not quite censure, not quite compassion. “But you don’t need to be a dick.”
He scrubbed his hands through his damp hair, leaving it sticking up in disordered tufts. “You’re the best, and I’m the worst.” He glanced up from beneath his lashes. “I’ll keep working on it, Vi. Promise.”
I bent to tug the blanket over him. His hand brushed mine, warm and callused. Not quite holding me in place but not releasing me either. I froze. So did he.
The air between us went still, thick with something unnamed.
Then he shifted, breaking the spell. “Go to bed, Cupcake.”
My feet dragged as I made my way upstairs. I’d been dismissed. Relegated to my lonely bed. It was for the best. But something about the way Lee had looked at me made me wonder… was it?
***
Sliding between Lee’s sheets made it impossible not to think of him as I stared up at his bedroom ceiling.
His curt “leave me alone” from earlier stung, even though he apologized right after.
I’d been trying not to crowd him – obviously I’d failed.
Then there was the moment afterward, where he’d almost held my hand. Fleeting, but every sense lit up.
I shifted, scissoring my legs. Trying my side. Every move only reminded me that I was where Lee usually slept. He couldn’t be comfortable downstairs. Maybe I should have insisted on helping him up here, taken the couch myself.
A muffled “fuck” carried up to me, and I abandoned the pretense of sleep, half-jogging downstairs before I could think better of it. Squinting to focus on each runner, centering each footstep on the carpet. I’d be no use to him if I took my own tumble.
“Lee, you okay?”
My pulse stilled before galloping ahead. He’d pulled his laptop across his thighs. And his shirt off. He’d left a lamp on, and it burnished his skin in a golden glow. I’d forgotten my glasses in the rush to get to him, giving him a hazy, dream-like quality.
He scrubbed his hands across his face, groaning into his palms. “Sorry to wake you, Vi.”
“You didn’t.”
He peeked over his hands, gaze lingering on my bare thighs, making me aware of the other thing I’d neglected in my rush to him – pants. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. He didn’t look in the mood. I resisted the urge to point out that together, we almost had a full outfit.
“Nice shirt.”
The baggy cotton was nothing special – just an old SAR shirt from my dad’s days volunteering. The navy cotton was worn so thin in places, you could see through it, but I loved how soft it was. A zillion washes will do that for you.
“Thanks,” I said airily. Like I wasn’t remembering the other thing I left upstairs – my bra. Two more seconds with him, and that’d be painfully apparent.
“I can’t think with you hovering over me.” He patted the bed next to him. “Come, sit.”
If terrible ideas won trophies, this one would take home gold. But sitting near him would make my bra situation less obvious. I ignored the internal voice that whispered going back to bed did a better job of maintaining boundaries. Something about the late hour and his vulnerability called to me.
Lee was too good at keeping up walls. Pretending everything was fine and shutting everyone else out. Did it make me an awful friend that I found his frustration fascinating?
I settled next to him, careful to keep a few inches between my bare hip and his. He smelled faintly of soap from his shower. His shoulder brushed mine. Even that brief contact was enough to make my nipples tighten. This close, I could see the open document and blinking cursor on his screen.
“What’s keeping you up?” I asked, pretty sure I knew the answer.
His mumbled response was too quiet to catch. For one reckless second, I thought it was “you.”
My pulse skittered. Before I could ask him to repeat himself, he slammed his laptop shut with a growl.
“I’m stuck.”
“Oh.” I masked my disappointment. Of course his frustration was about work. “Want to talk it through?”
He speared his fingers through his hair, tufts standing on end. My lip twitched. He looked like a startled cat. “I don’t want to keep you up.”
“Like I said, I wasn’t sleeping. Hit me with it, Murphy. I don’t mind spoilers.”
With a grumble, he started explaining his plot – the trucker serial killer who evaded capture for years before running afoul of his profiler.
“I need a stronger suspense beat at the midpoint. Something with higher stakes than a shootout.”
“I find adding Gran to any situation raises the stakes, whether or not you intended to.”
His rough chuckle caught me off guard. “She’d certainly make things interesting. But that might be what I need – not Gran specifically, but a confidant for my profiler. Right now, he’s a bit of lone wolf.”
I leaned against him, soaking up his warmth for a beat before pulling away. “We don’t know anyone like that.” Brow arched, I let my lip hitch up in a half-smile.
He growled softly, turning it into a reluctant smile. “Sometimes it’s easier to go it alone. Less messy.”
I let a low chuckle roll out, trying to imagine my life without mess. “Murphy, you’re involved with the wrong family if you want to escape drama. Especially the petty kind. Fenwicks are born messy.”
His gaze lingered on me, the corner of his mouth hitching.
“Maybe that’s why my profiler’s missing something—he’s too neat.
Needs someone willing to get their hands dirty.
” His fingers grazed my knuckles, warm and intimate.
“Some of us are slow learners in figuring out what we really want. Messy makes the story interesting... and I like interesting.”
My pulse skittered, and I was glad the dim light hid the heat crawling up my neck. “But are you willing to get your hands dirty to make it happen?”
He tilted his head, a slow smile curving his mouth. “Are we still talking about my plot?”
“I don’t know, Murphy. Are we?”
The space between us felt suddenly too small.
“Guess we’ll find out,” he murmured, and the low rasp of it followed me all the way back upstairs.