Chapter 13 #2
I remove my goggles and stay there for a moment, arms crossed over the edge of the pool as I stare into emptiness, listening to the heavy rain falling on the glass roof.
In the corner of my eye, I notice that someone left a pool noodle within arm’s reach.
Leaving my goggles behind, I move to grab it.
Then, I slip it behind my back and let myself float with my ears in the water.
There. Perfect stillness. Finally.
For the first time in months, I feel at peace.
I’m too tired to think, so my mind rests like it hasn’t since the arrest. There’s nothing but warm water on my skin and silence in my ears as I float.
Above me, the rain that falls and trickles down on the glass is like a hypnotizing ballet.
And when I close my eyes, all that’s left is the deafening stillness of water.
It’s so quiet that I can hear my own heartbeat.
Fuck, I needed this. Peace. Utter and absolute peace.
I needed it so much that I stay like this until I’m practically falling asleep.
If it weren’t for fear of catching a cold, I might actually sleep here.
Anything’s better than going back downstairs, back to issues I refuse to handle for now.
But staying here isn’t reasonable, so I force myself to get out of the water.
Back at the apartment, I drop the bag by the door, kick my shoes off, and walk to my room.
I’m not sure where I expected Andrea to sleep, but finding her in my bed surprises me.
She left the lamp on her side turned on, which allows me to see her, sleeping on her stomach and hugging the pillow under her head.
Her bun is messy, wild curls scattered on the pillow, and her lips are squished together in what looks like a pout.
Barefoot, I approach her silently. Who could guess, seeing her sleeping so soundly, that this tenacious little woman is currently sitting on top of every federal agency’s most wanted list?
Admittedly, I built Nammota’s reputation, but she got the name back onto those lists. She is Nammota now. We both are.
I never thought I’d share the name with anyone, and I can’t think of someone else who could be worthy of sharing it with.
Her eyebrows twitch, and their relaxed state transforms into a frown. “Baby, don’t,” she mumbles, seemingly displeased.
Looks like we can’t even get along in her dreams …
I crouch down and, as delicately as I can, pass my thumb over the twisted arch of her eyebrow.
It softens, returning to normal, and I stay there to look at her.
I haven’t gotten to admire her this closely in a long time.
I almost forgot how long and lush her lashes are.
She has fewer freckles now, which I guess occurs in the winter months—especially given how much time she must have spent locked in the hidden room.
Maybe if we get better, if I can somehow make sense of her foolish actions, we’ll go on that trip we talked about, alone on an island off the coast of Belize. I’m sure the freckles I love so much would return within a week, with maybe more on the rest of her.
But as much as it hurts, I’m not sure we’ll ever get there. That fantasy vacation we built together might remain just that.
A fantasy.
Lex slept in one of the guest rooms, and it stings.
I left the lamp on last night, so he could easily navigate the room and join me in his bed. But no, he chose to sleep in a different room. That’s how much he doesn’t want to be with me. And I know he came during the night, because upon waking up this morning, the light was off.
Maybe it’s a good thing I have to head to work today. It’ll give us some time apart, which, as painful as it is to admit, we need. As if enduring three months apart wasn’t hard enough …
When he comes out, I’m at the high counter of the kitchen island, blowing on a steaming cup of coffee I’m holding with both hands.
“Good morning,” I say, trying to be cheerful.
A few beats and then he grumbles, “’Morning.”
He heads straight to the coffee machine, and, finding the pot half empty, he turns to me to stare at my cup with a frown. “Is that coffee?”
“Yes, I’ve developed a taste for it. I still use a lot of sugar, but I rather enjoy it now.”
My answer receives a vague “Hmm,” and then he decides he’s pissed at me again. I watch from my vantage point as he takes a few things out to prepare his breakfast.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Hm … So the bed in the guest room is nice?”
“Yes.”
Not wanting to press him too much, I give him a moment before asking, “Do you feel ready to talk?”
“No.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to hide my deception.
While his four eggs are frying in the pan, he looks into the fridge for something. “If there’s anything you need, I can make a stop on my way back from work,” I offer.
“You’re coming back?”
Not taking his icy tone personally is getting harder and harder. “Yes, of course.”
“Yesterday, you said leaving early would be humiliating. But you spent the night, so it’s fine now, isn’t it?”
My tone is cold and detached, like his, when I say, “No.”
“And what’s your excuse this time?”
His words hurt more than they should, but I hide it. “I want to be with you, which was also my excuse yesterday.”
Annoyance flashes on his face, and he finally turns to look at me. “Is this your plan? Disrespecting my wishes all the time?”
“No, not all the time. Only when you’re being a stubborn ass.”
The beard eating away at the lower half of his face makes it harder to read him. But his somber stare is impossible to misinterpret. We both stay silent as he finishes preparing his breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast … There’s enough to feed two people there. Did they starve him in Sheridan?
It certainly doesn’t look like it. He looks more muscular than he ever did.
His T-shirt fits tighter than it used to, and even with it on, I could count every single muscle on his back.
His arms got bigger, too. The sleeves strain around the bulging muscle, and the veins in his forearms catch the light of the extractor.
He isn’t the same man as before. I can barely see the generational wealth nerd I used to know and love. This man right here has experienced hardship. He’s lost everything, and even though he’s found it all again, it left a mark.
I want to be here for this new version of him.
So fucking badly. I want to help smooth that line between his brows.
I want to kiss the small scars on his upper lip and eyebrow.
I want to remind him I love him unconditionally.
And I want him to remind me of what it feels like to be loved by him.
Sweaty hours spent rolling in his sheets, entanglements so profound we can’t remember where we end and start.
I haven’t gotten around to using Idris and Jensen, too preoccupied to be in the mood, too busy to make the time for it. It would have been more frustrating than anything else, anyway, because nothing can ever be as soul-shattering as what this man used to do to me.
Memories of our past exploits make their way into my mind, which fuels itself at the sight of him.
He looks so strong, he could break me in half if he tried.
I’m so touch-deprived that I’d probably be into it.
God, I want him to hoist me up on this counter and take me like he did our first night together, relentlessly fucking me like I’m all he ever wanted in this world.
The fantasies are getting a little too intense when Lex turns around with his plate ready. I look away, pretending I wasn’t staring, but I see him get closer in the corner of my eye. To my surprise, he sets the plate in front of me, along with a fork and a knife.
Stunned, I stare at it. He … cooked for me? He won’t talk to me or look at me, but he made me breakfast?
“Eat,” he orders before taking his own plate.
I gaze up at him again, expecting him to settle next to me, but I see him walking toward the Nammota room instead, leaving me alone with the breakfast he made.
He cooked for me. No matter how mad he is, even if I just called him a stubborn ass, he made me breakfast. He didn’t have to, but he did it anyway.
For the first time in over three months, I actually want to eat something.
I crave it, even. So, I devour the dish, my appetite having returned with surprising force.
It isn’t grand cuisine, but it might as well be with how I eat it all, leaving nothing but yolk smears on the plate.
I haven’t had a full meal in so long that it weighs heavily on my stomach.
But the sensation is pleasant, fulfilling.
Lex cooked for me, and that meal fed my heart as much as it did my body.
After I’ve cleaned up after myself, I finish getting ready for work.
Before I leave, though, I walk up to the hidden door, which Lex didn’t fully close.
He doesn’t know I’m here at first, so I get to see what he’s been doing in there.
It looks like he’s going over the scripts I created for the heist. Is it out of curiosity?
Does he wonder how I pulled it off in such a short time?
I could stay here all day, watching his handsome profile, but I have a job I need to get to. So, I force myself to say, “I’m off.”
He swiftly hides what he was working on by returning to the desktop, which is pointless but betrays his state of mind. Then he twists to me but says nothing.
“Given time, do you think we can ever go back to the way it used to be?” I ask softly.
He thinks about his answer for a while. Too long. That can’t be good. “I don’t know if I can ever fully trust you again, Andrea.”
My chest clenches painfully. “But can you forgive me?”
Again, he ponders for several seconds. “I don’t know.”
His sincere doubts finish breaking my heart. He needs more time to find his way back to me. A lot of it. He needs to heal from those three months, and then, maybe, he’ll work on forgiving me.