Smother (13 page)

Nothing had changed between them. They shared a few sentimental moments. So what?

Reese slapped her palms onto the top of the white metal and closed her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing. “Un
-
fucking-believable,” she muttered.

Gnawing on the inside of her lower lip, she decided she’d call him later. For now, she’d use the dryer downstairs. The appliances came along with the apartments, but the tenants had to pay for water and sewer, so some chose not to have them, and instead used the free facility ones.

Quickly throwing the wet clothes in a basket, Reese headed out the door and down the stairs. His back was to her, but even so, she immediately recognized the person that stood down the hallway near the apartment recently vacated. Leo seemed to know she was near as well, stiffening and slowly turning to look her way. He was dressed in faded, torn jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that somehow complemented his pale coloring. She should have known she’d run into him—Sundays were the days he took care of all the apartment building stuff.

Their eyes connected and her body reacted with tingling heat. Reese abruptly turned, miscalculated the location of the wall, and banged into it. With a curse, she swooped through the doorway of the small laundry room. It was a white-walled, windowed room with half a dozen washers and dryers in it. There was a long table to fold clothes on and two chairs for those that wanted to stay with their laundry while it washed and dried. It forever smelled like laundry detergent and made her sneeze when it was extra dense.

Her hands shook as she flung articles of clothing into a dryer, the
whack
of them slapping against it giving her a small form of satisfaction—mostly because she envisioned Leo’s head being bombarded by the wet clothing.

“Dryer not working?”

Reese tensed and her shoulders shot up at the sound of his velvety rough voice. “No, I just thought I’d use the one down here, just to try it out, see how it works. Maybe I’ll like it better than mine and demand a different model.”

“You’re supposed to tell me when things don’t work.” His voice was closer.

Grinding her teeth together, Reese whirled around, aware that she wore short purple shorts and a tight white shirt, undergarments not included in the ensemble. She leaned her elbows against the ledge of the dryer and pushed her chest out, effectively showing off her breasts. He didn’t even glance down.

Disgusted by his inability to act like stereotypes dictated he should, she straightened and resumed filling the dryer. “The dryer doesn’t work.”

“I’ll be up soon. Was going to stop by anyway.”

“Aren’t I supposed to get notice before you can do that? You know, so I can air the cigarette smoke from the place, cover up the stained carpet, stuff like that.” She glanced up in time to see a corner of his mouth lift, which was as close to a smile as he ever got.

“Not inspecting.”

“Then why are you stopping by?”

“To fix the dryer.”

Reese’s eyes narrowed. “Why were you going to stop?”

Leo rubbed his unshaven jaw and her gaze followed the motion, instantly intrigued by it. “I wanted to give you something.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

He shrugged. “It’s not up to you.”

She hit the start button on the dryer, her palm stinging at the force of it, and glared at him. “Why did you hire me? You don’t need me there. You do everything yourself already, and I’m pretty sure you always have. I was not a good investment, in case you haven’t figured that out by now.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Reese grabbed her head and squeezed. “It’s ridiculous trying to have a conversation with you. I mean, my
God,
you can’t even talk in complete sentences! I would have to be an idiot to seriously consider anything you say.”

“I can talk in complete sentences,” he said slowly. “I merely choose not to.”

“Too much effort?” she guessed.

“Or a waste of time.”

Reese grabbed the laundry basket and turned toward the door. “Yeah, well, so is trying to help me. Stop trying to look out for me. You’re just asking for trouble.”

He put himself directly before her when she moved to leave.

“Move.”

“No.”

“
Move.
”

Leo crossed his arms over the wide expanse of his chest and looked at her.

Grinding her teeth together, Reese rammed into him with the laundry basket, barely dislodging his footing. She realized she was being especially rude today, but she had her reasons. “I’m supposed to be the one with the issues, but you really have some doozies of your own, you know that?”

“Like?”

“Control freak much? I mean, is your life so boring you have to try to run mine too?”

“That’s not even it.”

“Then what? It makes you feel good about yourself to try to fix someone? You need to find another way to fill your days.”

He reached into his back pocket and held his hand out. A tiny silver bird dangled from a thin chain, wings spread from its petite body as if readied for flight. It looked similar to the one he’d hand drawn some weeks ago.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was faint, an ache pulsating through her.

“Happy Birthday.”

A buzz formed in her head, wiping out the sound of her pounding heart. She stared at the necklace as warmth trickled through her to heal the wound in her chest at the same time it made it throb.

“I don’t want it.” She turned away as she spoke. Beautiful things were not meant for her.

Reese heard the sound of his footsteps recede, and when she turned around, it was to find herself alone once more. She looked down, her throat tight, and saw the dainty necklace lying on the table, waiting for her. Its innocence and loveliness mocked her, told her she would never be worthy to wear it, but she so wanted to be. She backed away from it as though it was a live spark and would light her up in flames if she got too close to it.

She set the basket on the table beside the necklace. Time went still as her eyes memorized it, tucking the image away to later peruse within the safety of her thoughts. It didn’t make sense that he would get her something, especially something so meaningful. Why would he do that? They weren’t friends. They weren’t anything. Most of the time, she wasn’t even nice to him.

Reese chewed her lower lip and studied the necklace as she waited for the clothes to dry—not thinking, just looking, and when the buzzer went off, she jumped, unaware that so much time had slipped by.

She decided to fold the clothes in the laundry room instead of in her apartment. She told herself it had nothing to do with being in the presence of the necklace for a little while longer, because when she left, the necklace would not go with her. But for now, Reese could admire it. She grabbed a shirt and quickly folded it as her eyes returned, again and again, to the small bird. When the basket was full of folded clothes, she picked it up, and refusing to even glance down, strode for the door.

She couldn’t cross the threshold.

Slowing to a stop, Reese stood with her back to the necklace, felt the power of it blazing into her, its little bird talons lodged into her skin. Longing coursed along her spine and straight through her back into her heart. When had she last received a gift—a gift given out of nothing more than kindness?

Reese clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead at the wall across the hallway, but she didn’t really see it. Instead she saw Leo drawing that damn bird, remembered the awe that washed over her at the magic he was able to spin with his hand and a pencil, thinking how much she’d like to be that bird.

Free. Innocent. Brave.

With a muttered curse, she marched for the necklace and snatched it up before climbing the stairs to her apartment, dizzy with the combination of anger and appreciation inside her. The necklace scorched her palm like she imagined a cross would, good and sin connected in some unfathomable, regrettable way. She dropped the basket to the floor inside the door, smacked the necklace onto the kitchen countertop, and strode for the roof.

Reese’s hand trembled around the pack of cigarettes she held. She didn’t want him to give her gifts. She didn’t want him to remember her birthday, and she didn’t want to feel grateful to him for anything.
Too late,
a voice within mocked. She quickly lit the cigarette and inhaled sharply as the smoke scorched her throat. Reese turned her gaze to his building and glared with all her might at it, hoping he was inside and saw her.

The need to push him away, to stack up the defense walls, pulsed through her, and when he showed up to look at the dryer, Reese was showered and clothed in a silky robe the color of a virginal blush. She parted her bangs so that they hung over half of her face, the shorter locks around her ears and neck alluringly waved up and out. He pretended not to notice her lack of clothing and headed for the closet that housed the washer and dryer.

When he turned around to face her, she untied the belt and let the material fall from her body as she locked eyes with his. Leo froze and his sharply defined features transformed. His jaw went hard, his lips thinned, and a tick formed under his left eye. She knew he fought to keep his eyes from sliding down.

Reese wasn’t worried about anything happening. Leo would reject her. In fact, she counted on it. Just as she needed other men to want her, and part of her wanted him to want her as well, she also needed this one man to tell her no, to expect more from her. She couldn’t explain why, but she did.

“Get dressed.”

“I’m thanking you for your generosity.”

“Don’t,” he warned.

“You gave me a necklace, a present. Isn’t this what you want in return?” Sickened, Reese swallowed. She refused to look away from him. “You gave me something, now I have to give you something. Isn’t that how it works?”

He took a step toward her. Derision took over his plain features and turned them harder, more striking. “It isn’t a gift if the person giving it wants something out of it.”

“Come on, Leo. You’ve done too much for me. It isn’t out of the goodness of your heart. You have to expect something in return. So what is it?”

“How about some self-respect?”

“Just fuck me already and get it over with.” Her voice cracked.

Leo’s mouth twisted.

“What are you waiting for?” she goaded.

“Doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Yes. It does.” Sometimes Reese wished for more, but she was always shown that wanting things didn’t make them real.

He started for the door. “Call me when you’re closer to rational than you are now.”

She grabbed a plastic cup off the coffee table and whipped it at him. “Why don’t you want me?” Reese shrieked, feeling insane.

She wanted him, she hated him. She wanted him to want her, she wanted him to stay away. He was a tattoo artist who wasn’t that good-looking, didn’t know how to talk, had no personality, and she was obsessed with him. Everything about him.

All of him.

The plastic cup hit his back and he swung around and strode for her. She wondered if he would hit her, hurt her. Tell her how pitiful and disgusting she was. That’s what she expected, what she felt she deserved. He loomed over her, big and strong and indestructible, and desire swept through her, mixing with the fear. It was dizzying, confusing. Potent. Electrifying.

“I will not be one of your men,” he growled. “Don’t try to use me. It won’t happen.”

“You hate me.”

“No.”

“You want to.”

Leo glared down at her. “No.”

“You want me.”
Yes. Say yes. Say no. Please say no. I need you to say no and mean it.

He grabbed her face, firmly but carefully, and tipped it back so that they looked into each other’s eyes. “I don’t want this—not this part of you.” His fingers caressed her neck before falling away to leave her stricken in their absence.

Leo left.

It took multiple tries to pick up the robe, and when she finally was able to clutch it within her shaking fingers, she threw it. She swore, loudly and vehemently, and then went to her bedroom. Tugging on a pair of panties and a tank top, she threw herself on the bed and waited for sleep to come, something to shut her mind up.

But it wouldn’t.

She tossed and turned, beat her fists on the pillow, flung herself to her back, and stared up at the white ceiling. It was a nice ceiling. Bare. Clean. When she realized that she was studying a piece of plaster, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. All that did was allow Reese to visualize Leo’s nondescript features in finer detail, hear his deep voice all the better, and think there was something noteworthy about him. She told herself there wasn’t.

Reese fell asleep only to wake up forty minutes later to the sound of him knocking on the door. Leo was outfitted with tools and a grim expression. He didn’t talk to her. He didn’t look at her. He quietly worked. Which was fine, because she couldn’t stand herself at the moment and the thought of interacting with him put a bad taste in her mouth. Drowsy from her brief nap and humiliating performance, she didn’t have the energy that was required to deal with the emotions he brought forth.

She sat on the couch, careful to keep her back to him and never directly look at him. ‘That Man’ by an Indie band called Vinyl Station played from the computer on the floor beside her and she focused on that. The right words paired with the right composition had the power to pull emotions from the listener. Each song was a story—some sad, some happy—but wholly felt. Reese didn’t listen to music, she was taken over by it.

The necklace was in her hand. The plan was to give it back to him when he left, but each time she told herself that was exactly what she was going to do, her fingers tightened around it. Reese was twenty-five today. It was her birthday and one person in the whole world remembered and cared enough to let her know. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel and the instinctual reaction of that was to shove him so hard, and so far away, that he could never get to her again.

“Dryer’s fixed.”

Reese jumped and reflexively kicked her leg out. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a disinterested glance even as her pulse wildly fluttered. “Wonderful.” She closed her hand around the necklace until it wasn’t visible.