Chapter 35 Lexi
Lexi
After having the most amazing lunch with Mia and Justin and getting my nostalgia fix with the movie last night, I’m practically beaming as I pull up to the neighborhood gate.
Jack steps out into the driveway, his lips with the standard flat line. It’s a wonder that the guy even has a wrinkle.
Maybe he should go on a lunch date, too.
‘Found a dead rat on the patio this morning during my sweep.’
And good morning to you, too. ‘Gross,’ I say as I flip up my sunglasses. ‘With the dead bird, rabbit and now this, are we worried?’
‘Not yet. I checked the tapes, and it didn’t show anything. I’m not sure how it even got there.’
I twist my lips. I don’t normally spend a significant amount of time in homes out here, so maybe the dead wildlife is normal? I make a note to ask the neighborhood security team how often this happens to other homes. ‘Any deliveries?’
‘Only two.’ He raises his lip with a hint of a smirk. ‘I’ll give you exactly one dollar if you guess one of the packages.’
‘No … Really?’ I cock my head. ‘Jesus. How many shoes does one man need?’
Jack tosses up his hands. ‘Justin’s in the pool. See you at midnight.’
I make my way to the patio and slide open the doors. Water splashes above Justin’s broad strokes as he laps the pool. When I step onto the patio he stops and grins.
‘Morning, sunshine,’ he says.
I drag a chair to the pool’s edge. ‘It’s afternoon.’ I sit down and shield my eyes from the sun. ‘Jack said the schedule shifted.’
He swims toward me until the water is at his waist. I don’t see him swim much, thank God. His hair, wet skin, sculpted muscles taut from exercise … it’s too much. Total sexual overload. I tug on my sunglasses to help dull the senses.
‘You know what that means?’ he asks.
I cross my arms. ‘I’m scared to ask.’
‘That means you can come in the pool,’ he says, slicking his wet hair back. ‘We can set up the volleyball net. Unless you’re scared to lose, of course.’
‘You’re insane. I can’t come in the pool.’ But the idea of getting wet in a pool with Justin sounds heavenly.
‘Oh, come on,’ his voice carries a distinctive drawl. ‘Live a little.’
‘Nope. No chance.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t even have a suit.’
The way his eyes trails my body before he clears his throat makes my body buzz in places that it shouldn’t. He needs to stop looking at me like that. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it takes a herculean amount of strength to ignore.
He flicks water at me. The sensation of cool water hitting my arm breaks me from my thoughts. ‘Did you just splash me?’
‘Yep.’ He smiles and does it again.
I hate that I’m close to giggling. When did I become the person that fucking giggles? ‘You’re seriously twelve years old, you know that?’
‘Sure do.’ He slowly wades away. ‘I’ll finish up in a bit and head to the showers. There’s leftover green juice from this morning in the fridge if you want some.’
***
Rehearsal was swapped for script change reviews, making the day lighter than most, and we leave the studio around nine to stop at Justin’s favorite grocery store before heading home.
The moment Justin gets into the seat, his phone rings.
He stares at the screen with deep frown lines before sending the call to voicemail.
A couple of times in the last few months he’s had that same look after getting a call or message. He blew me off the one time I asked about it. But Justin’s definitely the type of guy to hide if someone is threatening him. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yeah.’ He clicks the seatbelt and looks out the window.
‘Listen. I know I brought it up before, but if someone’s threatening you, I need to know.’ My voice is more concerned than firm. I fan my fingers on his forearm. ‘Justin, I’m serious. Just because things have been quiet, doesn’t mean there’s not still a threat.’
He wraps his hand on top of mine, and it takes until that moment for me to realize I’m still touching him.
‘It’s not a threat. Not really, anyway.’ He removes his hand and stares at the cars zipping by on the road.
‘My mom has tried for months to talk to me. And I can’t.
But she said if I don’t then she’s going to drag my sister into this shit, and I can’t have that either.
I’m sick of the emotional blackmail, you know? I just need to figure out what to do.’
I cannot imagine having her as a mom. ‘Have you talked to Mia?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘She said she sincerely doubts my mom will even find her, and if she does, she’s not worried.’
‘Do you trust Mia when she says that?’
He shrugs and continues his vacant stare out the window. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
He faces me and I see everything – the fear, the sadness, the worry. A dam broke a while ago when Justin told me about his upbringing, what he saw as his failure to protect his sister, his mom’s cruel emotional tactics that keep him in check today.
‘There’s some stuff …’ he starts. And then, he unleashes.
I sit quietly as he tells me about the money.
My God, the money. My gut knots so hard that my breath shakes at the amount he’s given her.
Sure, if the mom is wonderful and needs the money, that’s one thing.
But shady business dealings, her own multi-million-dollar place, using her child as a personal ATM …
my chest grows so hot I turn the vent on to blast my face.
His mom is a master emotional manipulator, and even though logically he knows she holds no power, he says that message hasn’t transferred to his insides, and he constantly feels guilty.
I keep my face calm, but I’m anything but. I’m hired to protect Justin’s body, but I’m raging inside at the threat to his mental well-being. It’s been many years since I wanted to hit someone who wasn’t an active physical threat. But if this woman stood in front of me, I’m not sure I could refrain.
And she just catapulted to the top of the suspect list. The moment we get back, I’m feeding this intel to our home base, and messaging Jack and Marcus.
When he finishes talking, I’ve never wanted to hug someone so hard in my life. I shove my hands under my legs to stop myself from pulling him into my chest. ‘You don’t deserve this. At all. You’re a really good person. You know that, right?’
He shrugs. ‘Am I?’
I want to think he’s kidding, but he’s not. The sadness and pain in his voice digs into me, and I’m desperate to take it away. ‘Of course you are. I see the way you are with people.’
A soft grin spreads. ‘I guess it’s not like I kick puppies or anything.’
‘Jesus, this took a dark turn,’ I say with a chuckle.
‘Darker than unloading my shit on you like you’re a therapist for the last twenty minutes?’
He may have thought of this as unloading, but I’m glowing that he trusted me enough to share. Yes, the other week he opened up, but he’d had lager-encouragement. Here, now, he’s totally sober.
Every moment I spend with him, I fall deeper. I’m tiptoeing on dangerous territory but refuse to cross the line. But if this stalker doesn’t come out soon, I’m going to bust. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. But it ends, one way or the other. Either I give her everything I have, or I walk away. But I’ve got to be done.’ He rests his head back onto the seat. ‘What I do know, though, is that I need to change this depressing as fuck conversation.’
I clasp my hands behind my back and stretch until my spine pops. ‘Well, then, in other news, I found a new recipe for popcorn seasoning.’
‘You were searching for recipes?’ His eyes crinkle. ‘You hardly ever cook.’
‘True. But I love popcorn,’ I say. ‘But the recipe calls for cayenne pepper. And we all know your feelings toward cayenne … sooo …’
His mouth drops open in feigned anger. ‘It was allergies!’ He rubs his hands together. ‘All right. Tonight, we have a difficult choice to make. Fight Club or Pulp Fiction.’
Thank God. I needed this subject changed. Every time we get personal, my mind shifts and I imagine slow-mo running barefoot on a beach into his open arms. It’s not healthy. ‘That’s tough. I mean Fight Club has Brad Pitt in his prime. I mean, those abs. Not human.’
‘Fair,’ he says. ‘And Edward Norton killed in his performance.’
‘And I did not see the ending coming at all.’
‘Same. But then you have Pulp Fiction.’ He hands me a sparkling water from the car cooler and grabs one for himself. ‘That was the first movie I saw that was out of chronological order.’
How could I forget? Brilliant. ‘So smart.’
‘And it has Samuel L Jackson. That dude is legendary.’
‘Sure is.’ I crack open the water and the bubbles fizz down my throat. ‘Well, and there’s the whole gimp thing.’
He laughs and brings the can to his lips. ‘When that happened, I died. I did not expect that scene.’
‘Me neither,’ I say. ‘In conclusion. Tie. I cannot choose.’
‘Then we flip a coin. Do you have a quarter?’
‘What is this, the ’90s?’ I laugh at his scowl. ‘Who carries change?’
He grabs his buzzing phone from the console.
Streetlights mixing with the screen illuminate his face in a soft light.
What would it feel like to touch his face?
Would his five o’clock shadow tickle my fingertips?
Is his skin underneath soft and hydrated?
Or those lips … fuck. Those lips are so kissable.
I nibble on my bottom lip, picturing them on my mouth, on my neck, moving lower, firm, soft …
I mean to pull away my gaze, but I’m not quick enough.
He clearly caught me eye-banging him. Shit.
The SUV stops in front of the grocery store and we exit.
As we stroll through the aisles, Justin’s unusually quiet.
His eyes glide between looking at products and looking at me.
I’m trying to ignore, but dammit, I’m also human.
I’m desperate to hold his hand, rest my head on his shoulder, ask what he’s going to make me for breakfast after I let him ravish me.
I blink away the thoughts as he grabs his favorite gluten-free snacks and sparkling juices. I can’t do this. I. Cannot. Do. This.