Smother (17 page)

“Why?”

“Because whether you want me to or not, I care. I care about you even if you don’t.”

The enormity of his words hit her like a tidal wave and her overflowing tears were the result. Reese backed away from him and turned to the wall. She placed a hand on it to steady herself, and then held herself up with both hands when her knees buckled. There were ways to hurt someone other than physical or mental cruelty—the greatest pain could come in the form of empathy. Leo would hurt her, eventually, most likely without even intending it. Because he was good to her and good things never lasted long in her life.

“I don’t want you to,” she whispered raggedly and pressed her hot forehead to the cool plaster. “Caring about me never ends well for anyone.”

“You don’t get to control what others feel, Reese.”

She swung around to glare at him, needing him to go, needing to get away from the way he made her want to hope for things she’d never have. “I want you to leave.”

Hesitation marred his face and he even moved toward her, but then he stopped and studied her. Mouth firm and hard, eyes dark and clear. He was always so sure of himself, unshakable, and she relied on that, especially in this moment. She needed him to be sure of her—that she wasn’t bad, that she hadn’t instigated any of the things that happened to her as a child, that it wasn’t her fault. That he wouldn’t leave even though that was what she told him.

Instead he left.

He left.

He left her.

Reese sank to the floor, landed on all fours. She stayed there, head bowed as sorrow seeped from her eyes and dripped to the carpet beneath her. Horrible sounding sobs left her, the brokenness inside her soul torn from her without consent, without restraint. When her arms began to tremble, she went to her side, dipping her head to her chest and covering her face with her arms.

Hiding, even now, even when there was no one to see her crumble.

When you think of the future, what do you see? I used to see nothing. For years, it was an endless void without direction or purpose. It changed when I saw her. Nothing was instantly better, but I was. She became my purpose, even my void. ~ Leo

She didn’t leave her apartment Sunday. After her abysmal breakdown Saturday, she couldn’t face Leo, not yet. But then Monday came around and she couldn’t hide any longer. Reese felt awkward, like she no longer belonged at the shop. Leo hadn’t said she wasn’t allowed there anymore, but she felt in her heart she wasn’t—that she shouldn’t be. She’d given up that right with her actions.

Her feet were heavy, her brain told her to go back to the apartment, or anywhere other than there. Reese stiffened her shoulders and crossed the street anyway. When she got closer to the shop, she saw it was dark inside. A glance upward showed an unlit residence above as well. Reese tried the door. It was locked. The whole scene made her chest tight and mouth dry.

Something had happened.

Reese told herself she was overreacting, but instinct told her she wasn’t. Certain events had been brewing, leading up to a cataclysmic explosion. That man—it had to be because of that man she’d seen at the tattoo shop. Everything started getting weird after he showed up. Or maybe Ryan and Daniel had finally retaliated. Endless scenarios flitted through her brain, none of them good, and all of them bad for Leo.

She unlocked the door with the spare key and tramped inside, flipping light switches as she went. “Leo?”

Pausing by the appointment book, Reese saw that the appointments for the day had been crossed out and moved to another day. Again? She crossed the room in long strides and hurried up the stairs. She banged on the door to his apartment. “Leo? Open up! Why is the shop closed? Leo!”

No sounds came from the other side of the door.

She waited another five minutes or so, alternating between yelling and knocking on the door. With a sigh of defeat, Reese clambered down the steps, turned the lights off, and locked the door as she went out.

Once she reached the sidewalk, Reese tipped her head back, watching for any sign that he was there. If he was there, fine, but he could at least let her know he was okay. She slid her cell phone from her pocket and punched in the numbers to the shop. It rang five times before going to voicemail. With a curse, she ended the call and immediately called him again and got the same results. Pressing the phone to her lips, she frowned, unable to figure out the puzzle and frustrated because of it.

Gravel crunched under the soles of her shoes as she walked around the shop, looking to see if his vehicle was parked behind the building. It was gone. Yesterday Reese noticed it was gone too. She called his cell phone number next. It went to voicemail. She didn’t know why he would be gone without letting her know. Maybe there had been some kind of emergency, but still, Leo should have told her.

He doesn’t owe you explanations. Deal with it.

It was cold out, the air slithering through her thin long-sleeved shirt and jeans to pierce her skin with the icy breath of winter. The day was overcast and told her either rain or snow was on its way. Reese turned and slowly walked back to her apartment, an uncomfortable pinch in her heart. She was almost to the street when she heard a loud engine, the slamming of a door, and the uneven tread of heavy footsteps.

Reese whirled around and her heartbeat pitched at the sheer largeness of him. Shadows played with his features as he walked, painting him in black and gray. It took a minute for her mind to register the arm across his stomach, the way his shoulders were stiff and hunched over. He was zigzagging a path to his apartment, stumbling as he tried to maneuver himself forward.

She ran for him. “Leo?”

Leo’s head snapped up at the sound of his name. He stopped walking, his body held at an awkward angle, and when she reached him, she saw the gashes across his face, the blood, the swollen skin.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Fell.”

“You fell? You
fell?
How could a fall do that to your face?” Her voice rose and ended on a shriek. She winced at the dramatic tone of it and wished she could pretend to be calm even if she wasn’t.

“I’m okay. Go home.”

“You are not okay.” Reese lifted a hand to touch his face and he flinched away. Her hand dropped to her side. Had she ever touched him? No, not willingly, and now when she ached to, he wouldn’t allow it.

“What happened?” Her voice was steadier, but now her body trembled. She blamed it on the cold temperature, and not the situation. “Who did this to you?” Anger scorched her veins, instantaneous and full of venom. She wanted to find whoever had done this to Leo and do the same to them.

“
Go home,
” he bit out, eyes like bolts of lightning in the semi-dark. “Come back Wednesday.” He brushed past her and she turned to watch him clamber up the frail stairway, knowing he must have a death wish if he was attempting those stairs, especially in his current condition.

Reese threw her arms up in frustration. “Come back Wednesday! It’s always go home and come back Wednesday.”

The sound of a door slamming made her jump. Skin prickling with the wrongness of the situation, she slowly walked toward her apartment.

Two hours passed—dragged, really. Two hours of Reese gnawing on the inside of her lower lip with her teeth and wearing footsteps into the carpet of her apartment. She smoked five cigarettes as a way to fill the nervous energy that pulsated through her. She watched the shop from her rooftop perch, looking for a sign of life. And Reese swore. Loudly and frequently.

She wanted to go to him, take care of him. Mend him. It was a foreign concept, one that made her skin itch and all kinds of denials float through her mind, but it was true. Reese wouldn’t even push for answers. Really, they weren’t as important as her need to offer comfort to a person hurting—and not just anyone, but Leo.

Unable to stand it any longer, Reese tugged a sweatshirt over her head and grabbed her keys. She locked the apartment behind her and headed down the stairs. Her footsteps were slow even as her body screamed at her to hurry, hurry, hurry. She pushed the front door open, felt winter caress her face and body with an icy glove. Eyes locked on the apartment above the shop, she crossed the street.

He would tell her to go.

She shouldn’t go to him.

Her feet led her to where her heart wanted to be—maybe not her head, but definitely where what little good left of her heart wanted.

The front door was locked and she used her key to get inside, locking the place up again behind her. Without lights to brighten the lower level of the building, the dark and quiet were eerie, and not in a peaceful way. She quickly moved down the hall. Reese bumped into the corner of his desk and cursed, rubbing her thigh. When she got to the door that led upstairs, she tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.

Reese paused, thinking of the first time she’d banged her way into his home in comparison to this time. Out of fury then, out of protectiveness now. When did it change? What made it change?

You decided to pay attention to someone other than yourself.

Nothing would be the same if she continued up the steps. Reese could turn around and continue to live in her black world, or she could delve into his. All it took was one faint, thin stream of light to take some of the shadows away. She looked at the stairs and made her way up them in methodical steps.

She knew what she was doing. This wasn’t impulsive. This wasn’t anger. This was Reese consciously reaching out to another person, and not to hide or reveal something about herself, but because this person was hurting. Maybe this could erase her endless tab of debts to him, make them even. That wasn’t why she was doing it, but she had to tell herself that, or she wouldn’t make it up the steps.

All Reese had to do was show she cared when she forever wanted to convince herself and everyone else she didn’t.

Was she scared?

No.

She was terrified.

This should be without thought, instinctual, and it was a struggle just to touch the doorknob. Because this, something that shouldn’t be under debate, was harder for her to do than any atrocious act she’d done in the past.

This meant something to her.

Reese didn’t knock on the door. She didn’t want to give Leo the chance to send her away. She clasped the metal knob in her hand, and she turned it, slipping inside and quietly closing the door behind her. The space was dim and cast in deep gray. It smelled faintly of peroxide.

Leo sat on the living room couch with his head in his hands, shoulders protectively curved. She wondered how long he’d been like this. She wanted to know his thoughts, unveil the secrets he kept tightly in check. Go back in time to when she didn’t know him so she wouldn’t feel this constriction in her chest.

“Go away,” was the low command.

“No.” Reese straightened her shoulders, gathering courage from her verbal refusal. Saying words gave them power, took them from a nothing thought to something that could not be unheard.

Leo dropped his hands and raised his head. “I’m not even joking.”

She closed the space between them. “Good. Because you’re really bad at it.” She took a deep breath and sat beside him, eyeing the coffee table where discarded cotton swabs stained with blood and disinfectant lay. “I know you won’t tell me who did this, but will you tell me why?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Reese nodded and faced forward. The arrival of dusk placed shadows on the walls and obscured the furniture around the room, making everything indistinguishable to her unfocused eyes. She wasn’t really trying to see anything, she just needed somewhere to look.

He shifted on the couch, moved farther away from her. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “To keep you company?”

Leo gave her a sidelong glance. “Why?”

“Because you look like you need it.”

“Look like shit.”

“That too.” Reese fiddled with the hem of her sweatshirt. “At least tell me the other guy looks worse.”

He snorted gruffly, but for Leo it was the equivalent of full-blown laughter. “He does.”

“Good.” She relaxed against the couch, swiping the remote control from the armrest. “Let’s watch some TV. What shows do you like?”

When he didn’t answer, she looked at him. Leo watched her from eyes in a banged-up face and she swallowed with a tight throat. Reese schooled her expression into boredom and waited. She knew what it was like to try to figure someone out, and she knew he was doing it with her. He wanted to know why she was here. That made sense, because so did she.

“Food Network channel,” he finally answered.

“What? Why?”

“There was a time . . . when I didn’t have much to eat.” He shrugged.

“Okay,” she responded slowly, not getting it.

“I like to watch food prepared. Meals. It makes me feel better.” He shifted his gaze from hers. “It’s weird, I know, but it’s a comfort thing, along with a reminder.”

Reese blinked and looked at the remote control in her hand. “A reminder of what?”

“That things can always be worse, and better, than they are.”