Chapter Eight #2
As Iris looked at her, brown eyes swimming with confusion, pain, and so many complicated questions, Barrett couldn’t deny that all she really wanted was to look after Iris, to make her life better.
Despite how long they’d worked together, she wasn’t certain she’d ever really heard Iris laugh.
How achingly beautiful she imagined it would be.
How easy sweeping Iris into her arms would be.
The urge to do so felt like a physical thing, waiting in her muscles, desperate to burst from her.
She’d never met anyone else like Iris—nobody who stirred the things in her Iris did.
But that didn’t matter. They were colleagues. Not even friends. And Barrett had her reasons for keeping people at bay. She got to be part of Iris’ world for these brief moments and she wasn’t going to waste them thinking about what couldn’t be.
“You don’t have to say things like that just to make me feel better,” Iris said sadly.
“That’s not why I said it.” Barrett’s brows pulled together as she tried with everything she had to convey that Iris could believe her. Trust her, even.
Iris looked away, shaking her head, and the air that forced its way into Barrett’s lungs felt like a lump, a solid ball that made her tense.
For more reasons than Barrett could ever have imagined, Iris kept a wall between them.
For a long time, she’d assumed it was related to professionalism.
Now, she knew it was something far more sinister.
And, while Barrett didn’t know the perfect thing to say, she could at least address that.
She fought to make her lungs function normally and looked away from Iris. “I’m sorry I look so much like your ex. That can’t be easy for you, seeing me—seeing her—every day.”
Iris halted abruptly, her hand flying out to grip the sleeve of Barrett’s jacket and pull her around to face her. “What?”
Barrett laughed, the sound entirely devoid of humor. “Not everything I learned about her tonight was obvious, but even I’m observant enough to notice that, princess.”
The nickname stung now. Barrett wouldn’t stop using it, but she realized there had been a part of her hoping, beyond hope and reason, that one day she’d get to use it and have it mean something else, something more.
Now, she knew that wasn’t possible. Never would be. If it ever had been to begin with.
“Barrett… I…” Iris shook her head forcefully, confusion set in lines across her pale face. “What are you talking about?”
Barrett sighed and met her gaze again. “Eh, you know. The hair, the features, the face shape…”
“No. You don’t look anything alike.”
“I think even strangers off the street could tell us that’s objectively untrue.”
“But… you’re…” She gestured up and down Barrett’s body. “You’re so different.”
A weak smile pulled at Barrett’s mouth. The last thing she wanted was for Iris to look at her and see Natasha. “I’m glad you think so, princess.”
“She never called me that, for starters.” The shortness that tinged her voice cut off any possibility that Barrett might have asked why Iris allowed her to. It wasn’t anger with Barrett, though, and that only strengthened the curiosity.
Of course, Barrett wanted to know everything about her—the good, the bad, the hopes, the dreams, everything that scared or hurt her. Every little thing she dreamed of having someone else help her carry.
Iris shook her head again as she looked around, shrugging off the darkness that shadowed over her, and shot Barrett a wry look. “I think I told you I wasn’t letting you narrow down where I get my groceries.”
Surprised, Barrett smiled. “You did. Do you want me to put a blindfold on to walk you the rest of the way?”
Iris narrowed her eyes, studying Barrett intently. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“If you asked, of course.”
“Why?”
“Because it would be what you wanted.”
To Barrett, the reasoning was so simple, so clear. To Iris, the revelation seemed to be shaking something loose inside her, some immovable fact she thought she knew about the world breaking free and confusing everything.
“There is no rest of the way,” she told Barrett finally, sounding vaguely winded. “This is my apartment.”
When Iris gestured up at the building, Barrett didn’t even glance, keeping her gaze locked on Iris. She nodded. “Glad we made it safely. But, rest easy, princess, I didn’t notice any grocery stores on the route.”
Ordinarily, Iris kept her feelings locked tight inside, her expressions sometimes difficult to decipher.
As she stood before Barrett in the streetlights, however, Barrett felt like everything she was feeling flitted across her face.
It was a complicated, rapid cocktail of emotions, nothing easy to follow, but Barrett still appreciated seeing all of it.
She liked the tiny crack in Iris’ armor that let her in, even if only for a moment.
And she hated the world that had taught Iris she needed that armor.
“I’m not going to loiter in the area, waiting for you,” she promised, her eyes burning into Iris’. It was paramount that Iris knew she meant it. They could joke about the idea, but enough of Iris’ peace and safety in the world had been shattered tonight. Barrett wouldn’t take another piece of it.
Iris nodded like she believed Barrett but still didn’t fully understand her. Barrett would take that.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she said sincerely, sidestepping all of the questions that were clearly still whirling through her mind.
Barrett smiled softly. “My pleasure.”
“Have a good night, Barrett.” And, with that, Iris fled up the steps to her front door, Barrett registering the building for the first time.
“Good night, princess,” she called warmly after her, and she couldn’t stop her mind or her heart latching eagerly to the sharp intake of breath Iris gave in response.