Chapter 23
Days didn’t pass so much as repeat. Same walls, same silence, same restlessness that wouldn’t burn off. Julia noticed it because Leland didn’t seem to. He had work. A purpose. She had hours to fill and thoughts she didn’t want.
He worked constantly, laptop open, headset on, voice low as he coordinated with Callan, Alec, whoever needed him. Making calls, following up on leads, digging through online footprints with relentless focus. Even from home, he was still useful and an integral part of the D neither of them moved.
Her gaze lifted and met his. There it was again. That pull. Stronger now. Harder to ignore.
His thumb brushed lightly over her skin. Unnecessary. Her breath caught. His eyes dropped to her mouth, lingering.
Abruptly, he released her hand and stood, as if he’d touched something he wasn’t supposed to. “I’ll get a Band-Aid.”
Julia watched him go, frustration digging in deeper this time.
***
Alec delivered groceries and a laptop that evening. The next day, she worked, forcing herself into spreadsheets and schedules, grateful for anything that filled a few hours and made her feel useful again.
Outside, Leland sanded the chair. The steady scrape of it wore on her nerves differently.
He had a purpose. She had busywork—tasks meant to keep her from unraveling.
By the fifth day, she called Cari and complained that a mind was a terrible thing to waste.
“You sound like you’re in prison.”
“I might as well be,” Julia muttered. “I’m climbing the walls.”
Cari laughed. “You always hated being still.”
“I don’t hate that. I hate being useless and antisocial.”
“Won’t Leland talk to you?”
“Yes, but he stays busy. I think he works overtime to avoid it.”
A pause.
“I’m having a dinner party on Sunday. It’s Dev’s birthday. Not a full night. You should get Leland to bring you.”
Julia went still.
“It will do you good to be around people.”
Noise. Structure. Familiarity. She glanced at Leland who was finishing up, dabbing on a coat of varnish.
“No way he’ll agree,” Julia said.
“Probably not. But it doesn’t hurt to ask. Right?”
“Right,” she agreed. But she didn’t.
***
That night, storms rolled in again. Lots of rain and wind. Not long after dark, the lights flickered once, twice, before going out completely. The A/C cut out at the same time.
Leland was already moving. Flashlight at the ready, candles lit, every door and window checked. His calm efficiency made her feel better.
“Stay close,” he said. “The generator takes five to kick in, but it won’t power everything.”
“What? Like no cable?”
“Alarms, no cameras. Refrigerator, but limited lights, and no AC.”
She blinked. It was already getting stuffy. “In Florida?”
“It’s the sacrifice I chose to keep the alarms operational.”
“Great.”
They ended up in the living room, candlelight dancing softly between them while rain battered the windows outside.
The power had been out for nearly an hour.
The house had grown steadily warmer, their skin damp and sticky.
Leland dug a small battery-powered fan out of a closet.
It did little more than stir the same hot air in slow, useless circles, but they sat on opposite ends of the couch and angled toward it, anyway.
At some point, the distance disappeared. Julia wasn’t entirely sure when.
One minute, they were talking about practical things—how long outages usually lasted in Miami, whether the stove would work, or if they’d be stuck eating cold cereal for dinner.
Then somehow, she was laughing at the absurd quantity of batteries Leland kept stockpiled in a kitchen drawer, an entire civilizational reserve of AAs and Ds, like a man methodically preparing for societal collapse.
“You mock me now,” he said. “But when civilization falls, and I’m the only man in Miami with functioning flashlights and a useless fan, don’t come begging.”
Julia laughed. It came out easier than it should have, considering their predicament. “You have an emergency bunker somewhere. Admit it.”
He shifted, folding his ankle over the opposite knee, and she made the mistake of glancing down. His hand dangled over his shin, relaxed, and she could see the corded muscles in his forearm, the ink dark against his tanned skin. She quickly looked away before her thoughts got her into trouble.
“I do not have a bunker,” he said.
“That hesitation says otherwise.”
“There was no hesitation.”
“You hesitated.”
A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, a subtle hint of a smile that sent her heart racing. She averted her gaze, focusing on the whirring fan as the last echoes of her laughter faded.
“I haven’t heard that in a while.”
She looked back at him. His expression was softer, more open.
“Heard what?” Julia asked.
“Your laughter.”
Before she could respond, Leland brushed his thumb over her lower lip. The gesture was unexpectedly tender in a way that almost hurt.
Heat, which had nothing to do with the weather, coiled through her stomach instantly. She stopped breathing for a second.
His gaze dropped to her mouth before returning to her eyes.
The storm outside faded to background noise, the space between them suddenly too small and too charged. His hand slid along her jaw, fingers settling lightly at the nape of her neck. Giving her room to pull away, which affected her more than if he’d demanded anything.
“Leland,” she breathed.
His restraint looked dangerously thin now. “We shouldn’t,” he said, voice quiet. “I’m supposed to be protecting you.”
Her pulse quickened. “Is the system armed?”
“Of course.”
“Are you?”
His brow quirked. She rarely saw it, but she knew his 9mm was always close at hand.
“Then, I think I’m good.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. His eyes dropped to her mouth and stayed there for one long second, and that was the tell.
His hands framed her face, tilting her chin up with his thumbs, and he kissed her, a result of waiting weeks for it to happen. Not careful or controlled but with everything he’d been suppressing breaking loose all at once.
She met him with equal intensity. Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as his hand slid into her hair.
Suddenly, the lights snapped on. The sudden brightness felt brutal after the soft anonymity of the candlelight. For a second, neither of them moved.
Leland still framed her face like he didn’t trust himself to let go. But he did.
Rain still battered the windows. The fan hummed uselessly nearby. The entire room smelled of damp, stormy air, heat, and him.
Leland dragged a hand down his face. “You should go to bed,” he said finally, voice raspy with restraint.
Julia stared at him. She knew that tone. The one where he retreated behind a wall of control.
Rising to her feet, she crossed the room. If he needed a reason not to, she’d give it to him.