8. Lee
Lee
It’s been three days. Each one bleeds into the next.
Julian cooks meals I barely touch and leaves coffee outside my door every morning exactly the way I like it. Then he tries to get me to talk. I shut him down, still a little pissed about everything.
But fury is hard to hold when fear keeps gnawing holes through it.
What does Elliot know? Did I cover Marge and the guys’ tracks well enough? Is the warrant about Georgie’s ex? It’s one thing for me to go down, but I can’t take them with me.
I really thought I could trust him.
I’m pacing again. The cabin is too small for proper pacing, so after six tight passes between the bed and the window, I end up in the kitchen.
Julian is there. His broad shoulders are bent over the cutting board. His sleeves are rolled to his forearms as he methodically chops vegetables.
Everything he does is always so perfect.
I can’t imagine what he must think of me. A stupid idiot who thought she could go up against the big guys and come out on top.
I lean against the counter across from him and watch for a moment longer than I should.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking up.
“I’m bored,” I reply. Huge lie. I was staring. Julian is hard to look away from.
He smiles faintly, the corner of his mouth lifting like he’s indulging me.
“I can think of some things we can do to pass the time.”
“As if,” I quip.
I totally would though. Even though the dick drugged me and brought me to a cabin in the middle of a forest that is absolutely populated by wolves, no matter what he claims. Julian swore there were no wolves in this area. But obviously, his credibility is questionable.
Jasper brushes past my ankles then jumps on the windowsill.
Julian must have raised the blinds for him. That was… nice. He’s still on my shit list.
I reach for the cabinet above the sink, stretching just enough that my elbow bumps the stack of plates Julian set out earlier. One slips, clattering against the counter before shattering against the tile floor. The sharp crack makes me jump.
“Shit.” I step back too fast and lose my balance. My hands fly out to catch myself, but I still land hard on my ass.
A sliver of pain blooms across my palm. I look down to see a thin line of red welling across my skin.
Julian is already there. He takes my wrist in his hand, steady and warm, turning it gently to inspect the cut.
“Hold still,” he says, calm but focused.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s bleeding.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Yes,” he replies, eyes still on my hand, “and you probably ignored those too.”
I shrug. He’s got me there.
“Don’t stand. You don’t have shoes on.” Before I can argue, he hauls me up against his chest.
I squeal when he scoops me up off the floor. He's really strong, but I will not let him know I’m impressed.
He carries me bridal style to the table and presses me into one of the chairs.
Then he disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a small medical kit, already opening it as he sits across from me.
He cleans the cut carefully, and I stare at the way his dark lashes touch his cheek when he looks down.
Julian is made for this. Helping people, healing them, and saving them, even when they never asked him to.
I hiss softly when the antiseptic seeps into the cut.
“That was unnecessary,” I say.
“Sorry, babydoll.”
My core seizes when he calls me that. I missed it. I miss him.
“You told me to leave,” I whisper, and my voice wobbles. “The night I came to you after Elliot ended things. I should have told you why I showed up at your door.”
He looks up into my eyes. Hurt and regret shine through them.
“I knew,” he says.
My throat tightens. “You knew?”
“Not all of it. But I knew someone had hurt you. It wasn’t hard to piece together who it could have been.
You were using me to survive it.” His fingertip brushes across my cheek.
“And I let you. Because I was selfish enough to take any piece of you I could get. But I saw the pain in your eyes afterward… so I told you to go.”
“Julian…”
“I did. You were heartbroken, and as much as I wanted you—because I always fucking do—you needed time to heal.”
Now my heart bleeds worse than my hand.
He rubs circles on my wrist as he continues.
“You aren’t the only one who kept secrets. I sat across from Fuller after we...” He shakes his head. “After you walked away.”
I gasp. Did he tell him something about me? He wouldn’t do that. I don’t think.
“I let him think I was angry enough to help build a case against you. I gave him a fake location. I played informant for Elliot because I thought it would buy you time.”
My heart drops.
“You worked with the FBI?”
“I worked against them. Elliot and I both did.” His voice softens. “But yes. I should have told you.”
Why would he go through all of that after kicking me out? It was humiliating, but after I let him believe I cheated, I probably deserved it. Still, the pain feels fresh even as his blue eyes hold mine.
“It felt like you didn't want me.”
His face twists. “Ettie, wanting you was never the problem. Loving you was.” His fingers tighten around my wrist.
“Julian, I’m…”
Sorry.
I love you.
I need you.
You shouldn't forgive me for any of it.
He turns my palm over and looks at the cut again. It doesn’t look too deep, but the edges pull apart when he flexes my palm. His mouth tightens.
“This needs a stitch,” he says.
I scoff. “No. It’s just a scratch.”
“Lee.”
“Julian.” I mock his tone and pretend it doesn’t sting that he called me Lee. “Fine,” I mutter. “One or two. And then you’re not allowed to look smug about it. You really don’t know everything, Doctor.”
“But what if I do?” he replies with a smirk, already pulling out a needle. I hiss when he numbs my palm.
I watch his hands as he works using them to try to fix me. If only it could fix the brokenness inside my soul. At the loss of him. The loss of Em. The loss of Elliot.
His hands are so gentle. Those same hands have held my throat and made me come so hard I blacked out.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from squeezing my legs shut.
When he’s done, he tapes the bandage down and lifts my hand to inspect his work. He presses a kiss on my wrist.
“There,” he says. “Good as new.”
I snort.
“That’s optimistic.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. He leans in and kisses me with no hesitation. His tongue pushes into my mouth. I moan shamelessly. When he pulls back, his forehead rests briefly against mine.
“Don’t stay mad today,” he murmurs. “I love you.”
My heart disintegrates onto the floor.
I close my eyes for a second. I’m not mad. Not really. He meant well with the kidnapping and working against me with my ex. I think I understand since I would do anything to save someone I love too.
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly.
“I’m here,” he says.
“Why? You should hate me. I said mean things. I pointed a gun at you.”
I breathe him in. My chest aches as he stares down at me. I shouldn’t give in so fast with the whole kidnapping thing or the informant shit I don’t have a full understanding of. But what I did to him was worse, even if it wasn’t true.
“Because, Ettie, my heart hasn’t beat without you, and I can't stand it anymore. I don’t care about him. Or what happened before. I just need to be able to feel something again. To get my heart back.”
His mouth moves to my neck, and he kisses me there.
“I love you. I loved you when you pointed a gun at me. I loved you when you chose him. I love you now, even when I know you are furious with me.”
He grabs me by the waist and pushes himself between my legs. He kisses me like he is trying to steal my every breath. Which is insane, because I would have given it to him anyways. I would give Julian Jameson anything as long as he doesn’t stop loving me.