Chapter 16
Zeno
Wrenching the top buttons of my shirt open, I slumped onto the sofa in my small living room. I held my phone to my ear and let out an exhausted huff. “Has Santini shown up for all his appointments this week?”
The meek voice on the other end shook. “Yes. He did. And before you ask, there were no problems.”
I would have laughed if I had the energy. The woman on the phone was a strange mix of strength and fear, and I liked her for it.
Too bad she was terrified of me.
Too bad I couldn’t muster the energy to care.
I hadn’t been sleeping well. Clara came by every weekday, just like she always had before. But now, she was slipping in and out during times when I was too busy to do much more than see her feet disappear as she walked out the front door.
Before, I thought I wanted her out of my hair. Out of my house. Not popping up when I least expected it and making my life difficult to maneuver.
Now, I just wanted to see more than her high heels or the swish of her pretty blonde hair as she left. Feeling her smooth skin against my fingertips and tasting the air she breathed had become a desire I was struggling to control.
“And his exercises?” I questioned, forcing myself to focus on the physical therapist on the other end of the line. “Has he been doing them?”
Her quiet sigh left me wondering if what she was going to say would be the truth. “He does,” she said, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe it herself. “I help him in the office, and he tells me he’s doing them at home. But he’s not getting better as quickly as I hoped.”
Somewhere in my house, the floor creaked. And fuck if I could give two shits about Santini and his doctor after that. “Right. Well. He’s stubborn as hell. Just keep on him and he’ll figure it out.”
Another creak, and I caught sight of the toe of Clara’s shoe as she came down the stairs.
“Look, doc, I gotta run. Talk later.” I didn’t give her the chance to respond. Already pushing my tired body off the sofa, I hung up and tossed my cell on my vacated cushion.
Clara was reaching for the doorknob as I stepped into the front hall, and had I not had my shoes on, I probably would have slammed into her in my haste to get to her side. “Clara!”
She jerked at the loud crack of my voice, and more so at the harsh grip I took on her arm. But I couldn’t not. I hadn’t seen her in too long and the desire to touch her couldn’t be quelled.
“What’s wrong?” Doe eyes peered back at me, and I wanted to reach out and touch her face, to prove to myself that she was here. That she was real.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t touch her the way I was dying to. Not like that.
Could I?
“Where are you going?”
Her gaze tore a path down my body before her attention snapped to my face. She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Home.”
Hurt bubbled up inside of me. Clara had always confided in me, and her one-word answer felt worse than a lie.
“I haven’t seen you in weeks—”
“We’ve both been busy.”
“Why don’t you stay?” There was no hiding the plea in my voice.
“Why?”
Because I miss you.
Because I’m miserable without you.
I rolled the words around in my mouth, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. Instead, I offered, “Movie night?”
Though the movement was minuscule, I didn’t miss the way her head jerked back.
“I’ll let you pick the movie. Anything you want.”
“Anything?” Mischief glimmered in her eyes, and when I pressed my lips into a firm line, she gave me a glimpse of her beautiful smile. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, wrapping her warm fingers around my hand still tight on her arm. “I won’t choose a horror film.”
“I don’t have a problem with horror films,” I told her, a little peevishly.
She tilted her head to one side, and her smile turned sad. “No spiders, then.”
A shiver raced down my spine. I gave a nod.
“You make the popcorn?”
I let out a heavy breath, then let my lips tilt into a smile. “Anything for you, kid.”
She blinked, then tore her gaze away. “I’ll get the drinks.”
I missed her smile. I missed her eyes upon me, and I wanted to get them back.
She was staying. I told myself that was something. I told myself that was enough, though everything inside me screamed that wasn’t the truth.
I wanted more.
Slowly, because I didn’t want to, I let go of her arm. She dropped her school bag at the base of the stairs and toed off her shoes, then led me to the kitchen.
In the past, she used to hop on the counter while I made the popcorn, watching as the kernels exploded and the little white puffs fell out into the bowl. She used to talk to me, giving me mundane details about her day and her life and every last one of her thoughts.
Tonight, she poured our drinks quietly, and then left the room without a word.
I felt like she was punishing me, and I didn’t know why. I’d had so much going on in the weeks since I last saw her, I could hardly remember our interaction. Had I said something to hurt her? Had I scared her when I forced her to drive?
Whatever it was, the details were lost somewhere in the back of my tired mind, swirling around with the minutiae of Santini’s physical therapy and Nadia and Michele’s return and all my fucking patients I’d had to deal with since.
My chest squeezed when I found Clara in the middle of the couch in my den, arms curled around her legs and remote in hand. She was flipping through the movies, her attention not leaving the screen as I set the popcorn down on the ottoman and claimed my usual seat.
It wasn’t until she settled on an action movie that she turned to me, caution in her gaze and muscles stiff. She gifted me the tiniest smile before looking at the space beside me where she usually sat.
Where she sat the last time we’d watched a movie.
When we’d woken up with our naked bodies pressed together.
Jesus, fuck.
My chest tightened to the point of pain, and it didn’t let up again until the girl moved, taking her time to rise from where she sat and come my way. She took a seat beside me, snagged the popcorn from the ottoman, and leaned back until her arm barely brushed mine.
“This one looks good,” she said, her attention locked on the screen. She popped a few kernels of popcorn in her mouth, and my gaze lingered on where her fingers touched her lips. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” I reached into the bowl in her lap, letting my shoulder brush hers as I did. And I kept doing so, kept rubbing against her, trying to tempt her to return to me. To be the wild, spontaneous Clara I knew and loved.
The Clara I knew I loved.
She shifted in her seat, rolling her head and popping her neck.
“You okay?”
She peered over her shoulder at me. “Just a little stiff. I’ve been studying a lot.”
“Want me to rub your back?” I asked, lifting my hand to her neck and settling my palm against her warm skin. I dragged my thumb along her throat and watched as Clara swallowed hard.
Her lips twitched. “If you want.”
Grabbing the popcorn, I moved the bowl to the table beside me, then spread my legs, patting the couch cushion between them. “Come on over.”
Her face pinched. “Are you sure?”
I took her shoulders, moving her before she was ready, dragging her between my legs. Her skin smelled delicious, and I took a deep hit of her, dragging her sweet scent into my lungs as I leaned closer to her. “I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t.”
We both watched the screen as I smoothed my hands over her back, then dug my thumbs into the tight muscles of her shoulders and neck. She wasn’t kidding about being stiff. Her muscles were rods of steel that barely gave under the pressure of my hands.
But they did give, eventually. I could feel her relaxing as, on screen, police cars careened around corners and vehicles exploded.
“Does that really happen?” Clara asked, peeking over her shoulder at me. When I lifted my brows, she said, “The chases? The explosions? Does that happen in the Syndicate?”
Pulling her against my chest, I swept a hair away from her face. “In all my years in the Syndicate, the only vehicles that have exploded were ones we made to do so.”
“What do you mean?”
She was so close, I could have kissed her without moving an inch. I lifted my head, directing my gaze to the television, even if my attention was on the girl in my lap.
“A few years back, Queenie was trying to help her friend and her two daughters escape a vicious husband and a horrible home life. They were pursued by a guard, and there was a car accident.”
“Was there an explosion?”
I shook my head, but I knew she couldn’t see me.
I slid my hands down her arms, giving her a light squeeze.
“Not the way you’re thinking. We loaded the car with dead bodies, then rigged it with explosives and sent it off a cliff.
We needed her husband to believe they were dead.
The fire consumed enough of the bodies that they were unrecognizable, and there wasn’t enough DNA left to tell the truth. ”
She looked at me again, a smile curling one side of her lips.
“What?”
“I like hearing your stories.”
“Do you now?” She shifted, settling back against me. Leaning in like she hadn’t done minutes ago. “The last time I saw a vehicle explode, it was because Queenie’s boyfriend shot a full fuel truck with his sniper rifle.”
Clara let out a noise that sounded like a stifled giggle. “I can see Mateo doing that.”
“But not all cars explode. Santini’s didn’t. He flipped his SUV and landed upside down.”
She rolled her head to one side but didn’t look back at me. “He’s the one you’ve been helping?”
I huffed out a breath. “Trying to help. He’s stubborn as hell.”
There was that sound again, and it warmed something inside me. “I feel like you can handle that.”
Wrapping her up in my arms, I pulled her closer. “I feel like you might be right.”
Clara settled her attention back on the screen, but I couldn’t focus on anything but her. Her weight against my chest. The press of her ass between my legs. The way her skin felt like satin. The way she smelled like a snack.