Leave Me Love (3 page)

I DON'T REMEMBER
dreaming during my week-long sleep at the hospital. Now, I couldn't close my eyes without being plagued by nightmarish visions of Lucky holding a knife to my face. That or the way his eyes looked, still open but dead, empty, the soul clearly gone, his face slack and bruised. What did it mean that I missed him? That it made me sad I wouldn't be able to visit his coffee kiosk for a caffeine refill?

In my mind there are two Luckys. There's the Lucky who greeted me with coffee every day, who always had a smile and a hot cup of java waiting. And the Lucky who tried to kill me. Who took pleasure in sadistic torture. They weren't the same person. They couldn't be, because then I would have to revisit every memory I had of him and see it through the lens of a sociopathic killer, and I didn't want to take that trip down a blood-splattered memory lane.

So instead I showered, blew out my hair until it gleamed, straight and shiny, and with a light hand applied just enough make up to bring some life back to my pale face. Today was my first date with Ash, and I wanted it to be perfect.

I shoved the pictures of him and Bridgette under my mattress, like stashing away porn, and tried to put it out of my mind. I'd studied every detail of those photographs last night, and they told me nothing except that my best friend and boyfriend had been spied on by someone who wanted to hurt me. I didn't believe they'd cheated on me. I was sure there was a reasonable explanation, but Bridgette hadn't returned home from wherever she'd gone last night, so I'd have to wait to ask her.

While debating between pants and a dress, I borrowed a few thick silver bracelets from Bridgette to cover the scars on my wrists left by the wire Lucky had used to bind me. I finally settled on black slacks that hugged my figure nicely, and a red cashmere sweater, items from the Beaumont shopping trip extravaganza. I was just zipping up my black boots when someone knocked on my door.

Ash stood on the other side, holding a bouquet of roses in a vase, wearing his trademark leather jacket, a nicer pair of pants than his usual jeans, and a blue sweater. He smiled, appraising me with an admiring glance up and down my body and making me flush. "You look beautiful," he said.

I considered asking him about the photos.
Hey, have you been cheating on me with my best friend?
But this was our first date, and that didn't sound like a first date question. So I thanked him instead.

He handed me the roses. "I figured you didn't have a vase, so… "

His words trailed and I took the flowers, inhaling the sweet aroma and clearing a space on my desk for them. "Do I finally get to know where we're going?" I asked.

"Nope. It's still a surprise. You'll see when we get there."

"Am I dressed okay?" I grabbed my purse and dropped the painkillers into it, just in case.

He reached for me, pulling me against his chest as he cupped my face with his hands. "You're perfect, and I missed you last night."

Before I could reply, he kissed me, his lips warm and soft and tasting of everything wild and spicy. My body responded without hesitation, leaning into him, aching to be closer than we could possibly be, fully dressed as we were.

A wave of dizziness washed over me when he ended our kiss, and I gripped his arm to steady myself.

"Are you okay?" His eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Yes. You sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet."

***

We held hands as we left the dorm room, sides pressed against each other. The sun broke through thick clouds, sending shafts of light to warm my skin. The campus smelled fresh, like grass after a rain. Students passed by, caught up in their own lives, just as we were. I leaned my head against Ash's shoulder, wrapping my free hand around his bicep as birds chirped around us, and I smiled, forgetting all my fears and concerns. Forgetting Lucky and the horrors that had plagued me. Forgetting everything but this moment together.

Ash squeezed my hand as if reading my thoughts, his smile promising more times like this.

I expected to see his motorcycle, but he walked me to a black Jaguar and opened the passenger door for me.

"I figured this would be easier for you while you recover."

The car gleamed and had that telltale new car smell. I raised an eyebrow. "When did you buy this?"

"Yesterday," he admitted.

"So, you bought a new car, just so you could drive me to a date?"

"There are probably other uses for a car," he said.

"Like what?"

"Like, grocery shopping would be easier."

"Do you do your own grocery shopping?"

He smiled. "Not specifically."

I laughed. "You're impossible." I couldn't even conceive of buying a car on a whim like that. I thought about the Bruiser, probably turned to spare parts by now. "Now tell me where we're going."

"We'll be there soon enough. Have patience, woman!" Laugh lines crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. We got in the car and he reached for my hand, holding it on his leg as he drove.

The drive into Boston only took a few minutes and I expected to pull up to a restaurant, but he parked in front of a large brownstone instead.

A brownstone so familiar it made my heart skip a beat.

The brownstone Ash and Bridgette were leaving in the photos.

Before I could get out of the car, Ash put a hand on my elbow. "Let me." He walked around the car and opened the door. "Welcome to my home, Miss Travis."

I swallowed, keeping my nerves at bay.
And what would Bridgette be doing in your home?

The front door opened to a spacious entry with high ceilings and a chandelier that seemed made of crystal.

I followed him into the living room, slack-jawed at the sheer size of his home.

"It was originally built in 1871 and was eventually purchased by President Grover Cleveland's Secretary of War in the late 1880s. It's a historic landmark, so I've tried to preserve a lot of the period details while also giving it a simpler, more modern feel," he said, showing me around the first floor.

His modern touches of abstract paintings and simple clean furniture allowed the details in the home's architecture—exquisite black and white fireplaces, doorframes, ceilings—to stand out without looking gaudy. I followed him from room to room, admiring his decorating style.

A woman and a man worked in the stainless steel kitchen, preparing a meal fit for a king. When they saw us, they both smiled.

"Mr. Davenport, you're early," the woman said. "We're nearly done with supper. Everything outdoors is prepared." She had a warm smile and kind eyes, and I liked her immediately.

"Mrs. Brown, I'd like you to meet Catelyn Travis." Ash presented me like a trophy.

She wiped her hands on her apron and came to shake my hand. "Lovely to meet you, dear. We've heard so much about you. It's about time he brought you over for a proper meal. And none too soon, I can see. Did they feed you nothing at that hospital?" She had a lilt to her voice, possibly British, but subtle enough that it took a moment to notice.

I smiled at her fussing. "No one wants to eat hospital food. I look forward to dinner. It smells heavenly."

She nodded, her grey bun bouncing on her head. "As it should. Been working all day on it, I have. I hope you eat meat, my dear."

"I do, Mrs. Brown. Thank you."

Mrs. Brown pulled the man next to her forward. "This is my husband, Mr. Brown. He works here, too."

Mr. Brown didn't look like the talkative type, and I had the sense that his wife carried most of the words in their relationship. Still, he grinned and bowed his head, then went back to the food, the apron looking odd over his fancy suit.

"You must love cooking in here," I said.

Mrs. Brown put a hand on Ash's shoulder, like she was proud of him. "Indeed I do. Mr. Davenport makes sure I have everything I could want, and some things I couldn't possibly need. You like to cook?"

I nodded. "But I don't get a chance to often."

She gave a knowing look to Ash. "This one's a keeper. You mark my words, Mr. Davenport."

"Yes, ma'am." He guided me out of the kitchen.

I waved
bye
and faced Ash. "They treat you like a son."

"They've worked for me for many years."

"Do they live here?" I asked.

"They live in the attached brownstone. When they refused to take one of the rooms upstairs, I bought it for them."

I whistled. "Guess it's good working for you."

"I try to make it a pleasant experience."

I raised an eyebrow. "The Ashton Davenport experience?"

We both laughed as we walked down another hall decorated with large modern paintings. I thought I spied an original Picasso, but didn't get a chance to ask before he opened double doors to a wood-paneled library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a black desk in the center with two computers on it. "This is my office," he said. There was no evidence he actually worked in here, as everything had a proper place and was polished to a high sheen.

"Are you always this neat?"

"No. I can be quite a mess sometimes, especially when I'm in the middle of a project, but Mr. and Mrs. Brown keep everything looking pristine."

The sun was just beginning to set when he took me to the patio. It was a whole other paradise, with lush plants, a romantic table set for two with candles and white lights strewn in the trees and vines through the latticework. Soft music played from invisible speakers.

"La Belle et La Bete," I said, remembering our talk about Philip Glass, back when Cat had been a different person.

He reached out for me and I went to him willingly. "You are the beauty to my beast," he said. "I know I'm rough around the edges, but I'm falling in love with you, Miss Travis."

My throat choked with tears. I tried to giggle them away. "Kind of forward for a first date."

"Only if you think so." He kissed me, stroking my long hair, holding me tight against him. "I want more of this."

"I think that can be arranged."

He pulled my seat out and sat across from me, then poured us each a glass of wine. "To us," he said, holding his glass out.

"To us."

I sipped my wine, enjoying the view of Boston from his porch. Mr. Brown brought out a sampling of cheeses, fruits and olives "to take the edge off".

At dinner, I ate more than my body weight of the finest food, and still managed to find room for the seven-layer chocolate cake Mrs. Brown served us afterward. "You're going to have to roll me around after this meal," I mumbled, taking another bite of the cake that would be my death if I didn't stop eating.

When nothing but crumbs remained on my plate, we moved to one of the outdoor couches and enjoyed the fire pit that glowed blue like magic, as Mr. and Mrs. Brown cleaned up and said goodnight, letting themselves out with a reminder that leftovers were in the fridge and a
You should really eat a second serving, dear
to me.

Ash handed me two gifts he pulled from under the couch. "Open this one first," he said, handing me the bigger one.

"What's this for?" I unwrapped quickly, and then stared at the open box.

"For your protection." He picked up the gun and cocked it. "This is a Springfield XDS 9 millimeter. It's small enough to be a useful concealed weapon but still packs enough of a punch to do some damage."

"Ash, I've never shot a gun before." But I wanted to, I realized. I wanted to a
lot
.

"I'm going to take you to the range and teach you, but you'll have to take a safety class and register it and get a license to carry. Right now it's in my name."

I took it from him and felt the weight of it, then aimed it at a plant. "It feels good. Not too heavy, but not too light."

He smiled. "Good. You'll become an expert in no time."

I put the gun back in its box as he handed me the next gift.

"Because I wanted you to have something just for fun as well," he said.

This box was smaller, and when I opened it I gasped. "It's beautiful."  A diamond heart hung from a white gold chain.

He took the necklace out and put it on for me. "You are my heart," he said, kissing my neck.

"Thank you. For both of them."

We settled back into the couch and fell into a companionable silence as we held each other.

City lights flicked on below as the stars struggled to compete in the darkening sky, the orange, red and yellow hues of sunset fading into black as a full moon took the sun's place. For those moments, with Ash's body warm against mine, his lips brushing against my hair and his hands and arms holding me close, my fears and pains and broken memories faded, replaced by a rare peace, a slowness of time that engulfed us and made everything not us disappear.

I didn't want the moment to end—and, for a while, it didn't. We sat there, silent save for the soft music still playing and the whirl of cars as people raced home to their families or out for a night on the town.