6 Everleigh TV Screens—Somebody’s Child #2
“As I’m sure it would a lot of people if his reputation is to be believed, but this is about Tasha. Don’t break your promise now.”
“Ugh, enough guilt-tripping.”
“Just keeping you honest.”
“Oh, ho. Look who’s full of sass tonight.”
“You said it,” I bat back. “Not me.”
Turning his back on the room, tailbone propped against the bar, Leo’s ash-strewn orbs bore into me with the force of a diamond drill burrowing towards its target. A hot flush creeps up my neck, the fine hairs standing on end as the unfamiliar sensation of being studied activates my threat system.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Because I can.” He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “You’re different to everyone else in this town.”
“Please stop.”
“Shit, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No, it’s just . . . there’s nothing interesting to see here.”
His chuckle is rich, decadent molasses spilling over my raw senses. “You’re more interesting than this entire room full of people, even when you’re hiding behind this bar like it’ll protect you from being noticed. There’s nothing in the world that would stop me from noticing you.”
The heat sweeping over me intensifies until it feels like I’m being shocked by an electrode to the heart. At Christopher’s side, I’ve always been interesting. Commodities are. But I have never once been visible. Not in the shadow of his blinding light.
“I’m curious about you,” Leo admits, his smile turning a touch shy. “And your story. Nobody just rocks up here for the hell of it. This is the end of the road and the last place I’d settle if I wanted a fresh start.”
“Maybe that’s the whole point,” I breathe out.
“What is?”
“No one knows me here. I can be invisible.”
He gifts me another slow, almost lascivious look that carves fissures into the ice block solidified around my soul.
“How’s that working out for you?” Leo challenges.
“Well so far.”
“But I see you. You’re far from invisible to me.”
Unfastening the buttons at his wrists, he begins to roll up his shirtsleeves. An odd lump gathers in the base of my throat at the sight. Beneath white cotton, his firm forearms are plastered in layers of vibrant ink.
A beautiful, almost steampunk timepiece covers the breadth of his right inner arm, while his left features a coiled snake enveloping his entire arm length, the scales perfectly shaded in decadent greyscale. Part of me burns with interest to know where the snake’s body ends.
“Hawkthorpe is where people come to disappear, Eden. It’s a death wish for those of us who can’t hack the real world. If you’re looking for a new beginning, this isn’t it. Don’t get stuck here like me.”
“Would that be so bad?” I softly ask.
“Yes. It would be a damn tragedy.”
The distraction I’m internally pleading for doesn’t manifest. Not a single customer to offer me reprieve from his intense psychoanalysis. I’m caught in a spider’s web and unable to claw myself free as Leo drinks in the sight of me, curiosity floating on the ashy embers that paint his irises.
It’s foolish, reckless, and so unbelievably dangerous, but I feel myself taking a tentative step closer to him. Fear snaps in the space left between us until a sliver of truth breaks free.
“I want to disappear,” I admit, watching his nostrils flare. “So, if I’m in the right place to do that, nothing could convince me to leave. If not, then I can’t rest until I find where I can be invisible, or until there isn’t a piece of me left alive to be noticed.”
Some unknown emotion draws his brows together, and Leo pushes off from the bar to take his own step, closing the gap between us to a mere hair’s breadth. My airway closes up when his fingertips brush the back of my hand with total innocence.
“Then I’m glad I get to see you—right here, right now. Because it’s a hell of a sight, Eden, and I don’t want you to disappear just yet.”
“You don’t even know me,” I croak.
“But I’d like to. Very much so.”
“Why?”
“Call it intuition. You intrigue me.”
With his thumb tracing over my knuckles, the sensation of being touched is extraordinary. He isn’t recoiling in disgust. Listing off faults and imperfections. Berating my appearance, my weight, my entire fucking existence.
He’s . . . soothing me?
And smiling like it satisfies him.
Disbelief melts into an intoxicating dopamine rush. Every last nerve ending screams in childlike wonder at the realisation that touch can be anything but cruel or hurtful. The possibility exists that someone actually wants to see me, acknowledge me, give me an ounce of care.
When his forefinger slides beneath the blouse’s cuff to stroke over my skittering pulse, I’m torn from the daydream. I put space back between us, needing room to catch my breath. Leo respectfully withdraws with a measured look.
“You okay?”
“Yes . . . I . . .”
The boom of a loud voice cuts across me.
“Leo! Another drink!”
“Crap,” he curses.
Lumbering through the crowd to approach the bar, my attempts to calm down are halted by the arrival of none other than Sterling. He’s cleaned up for the occasion—hair brushed, stubble trimmed, sans cap—and looks enticing in clean jeans and a dark-red Henley that accentuates his biceps.
When our eyes lock, the other morning’s dispute surges to the forefront. I can see his questions, his concern. That fierce protectiveness that had no business being directed at me. An invisible air lock cracks open as the oxygen seems to flee the room.
“Oh, Eden.” He skids to a halt. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“Erm, sorry. Didn’t realise you were behind Leo.”
“I’ll let you serve him.” I inch forwards to sidestep Leo, his stare bobbing between the two of us. “Someone has to collect the empties.”
“I can do that,” Leo offers.
“Don’t worry, serve your brother.”
Leaving the two men to glare at each other, I escape the bar to make a sweep. The party is in full swing, with guests devouring Maverick’s fancy finger food and showering the birthday girl with love and attention. I’ve never seen Cassidy smile so much.
After clearing three full trays of empty glasses, I check Leo has it handled, then slip into the back to load the dishwasher.
It’s a welcome break from the raucous noise.
I’m no stranger to social gatherings, but this feels different to some stiff, lifeless mixer on which my shitty marriage depends.
I don’t have to smile, wave, and flounce around on Christopher’s arm. Schmoozing his stuck-up friends and soulless elders who watched me grow up only to be fed to him like a lamb to slaughter. But in some ways, the lack of performance is even more exhausting.
I don’t know who I am if not Everleigh Banks. His wife.
Or even who I’d like to be now.
At the sound of clinking glasses and a toast being given out front, I take care to load the dishwasher slowly to avoid interrupting. Cassidy’s voice is clear through the closed door. I wonder if her daughter knows how lucky she is to have a mother who genuinely cares for her.
The cheer of guests joining in marks the end of the toast, and I deem it safe to return. Music has been dialled up to thunk against the tavern’s low-beamed ceilings, while guests dance, chat, and laugh in perfect harmony.
When I duck behind the bar to relieve Leo, he’s locked in some heated conversation with Sterling, the latter knocking back a fresh measure of amber whiskey. Both men stiffen up at my return.
“I’ve got this.” I gesture for Leo to leave. “Thanks for the assist.”
“It’s okay, I don’t mind staying . . .”
“Go join the party. You shouldn’t miss it.”
“Eden—”
“It’s fine, I’ll wave if I get swamped. Go.”
Lips pursed, he nods in defeat and follows Sterling to crack open their sizeable liquor stash. I avoid the moss-soaked laser beams that briefly lock on me. Our last encounter is still raw, and I have no intention of getting caught in another awkward interrogation with Sterling.
The monotony of serving drinks and taking payment allows my mind to drift from the room, blocking the party out. I can find a quiet focus that calms me. There’s reassurance in the protective barrier the bar provides. Leo’s right; behind it, I can fade into the background.
As the night wears on and my feet ache from flitting around for hours, raised voices wrench me back to the present. I scan across the packed room to locate the source of the disruption, and my stomach flips.
Close to the exit, Sterling’s wide-set shoulders and caramel hair are clearly visible despite being faced away from me. He’s a solid boulder, trapping his target in place against the wall. None other than Andy, Cassidy’s ex.
“You have no right to set foot in the building you tried to sell!”
“Get your hands off me!”
“Did you think we’d all forget, huh?”
At the sound of their argument, the crowd abruptly quietens. Leo seems to clock on at the same time, leaving a conversation he was having across the room.
“It was a mistake to show your face here.”
“Fuck you, Sterling!”
Tensing up, Cassidy quickly clamps her hands over her daughter’s ears and attempts to steer her out of sight. No one seems ready to dive in between the two men, while Leo battles past tightly packed shoulders to intervene.
“You’re pathetic! That child is better off without you!”
“How dare you. No wonder you’re alone!”
Anger is a living entity bunching through Sterling’s back and shoulders, his fist drawing into position. My mouth goes dry as Leo frantically shoves closer to their position.
“Who’d deal with a psycho widower like you?” Andy taunts. “I bet your poor wife died just to get away from you.”
My blood runs cold.
The room stills.
And in a flash, the coiled viper strikes. Thwack.
Andy absorbs the punch with a yelp and crumples against the wall, barely held up by Sterling’s hand fisted in his shirt. Another strike and a cut opens up at the corner of Andy’s mouth. Thwack. Over and over until Cassidy’s ex is a stupefied heap collapsed on the floor.
“Sterling! Stop!” Leo bellows loudly.
“How dare you!”