Haze stood up, the sudden movement nearly knocking me off the bed.
“This time, when I find him, I'm going to kill him.” His tone was flat, matter-of-fact.
I didn't doubt for a moment that he'd do exactly what he said. Then I blinked. “This time?”
“Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just wish I shot the sick bastard when I had the chance.” His voice softened. “Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to get your grandfather?”
“It was just a dream,” I said, wishing my voice was steadier. “I'm okay.”
“Memories of trauma come back like that,” he said. His face was blank, the words kind, but unemotional. “Don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. Your grandfather loves you very much. You don't have to go through it alone.”
An eon of silence stretched out between us, and I waited for him to say something, anything, that would indicate that he would be with me too.
Except he didn't. Instead, he walked toward the door.
Something inside me cracked at the thought of being left alone here, even with the light from my bathroom keeping me from total darkness.
“Please. Please don't go.” I fought to keep down the panic threatening to overtake me. “I know it's not your job, but could you please stay with me?”
My teeth began to chatter and I pulled up the covers I'd thrown off at some point during my nightmare. I was wearing a pair of boy shorts and a t-shirt, not exactly the warmest of attire to begin with.
“Of course.” He didn't sound happy about it, but he didn't sound upset or put out either. “I'll stay as long as you need.”
I moved over to make room in my bed. The thought of Haze's strong arms around me was already unwinding the tight knots in my stomach and calming my tremors. He wore nothing but pajama pants, and I knew that the warmth of his body would chase away the chill that had settled in my bones.
Instead of coming to me, however, he pulled a faux fur blanket from the foot of my bed and made his way over to my overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room. There he settled in, sitting up so he could watch over me.
“You don't have to sit up in the chair all night,” I said, hoping I didn't sound as needy as I felt. “Come and get some rest yourself.”
“That would be...inappropriate.”
My cheeks blazed as hurt and anger flared. I'd seduced him once into comforting me. I could do it again.
But I didn't.
I wrapped the blankets more tightly around me.
I didn't want to seduce Haze. I wanted him to ache to hold me just as much as I longed to be held. I wanted him to want me the way I wanted him.
But he didn't.
Chapter 13
Haze
I was warm despite the fact I'd left the guest house in nothing but pajama pants. Part of it was the room itself, but I knew more of it was her. Being near her. Seeing her. The scent of her shampoo and soap.
Holding her in my arms.
The armchair was comfortable, but the adrenaline that had flooded my body the moment I'd heard her scream was still there. I wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon. Instead, I sat, watching Leighton's form shudder under her thick duvet.
I knew those shivers had nothing to do with temperature, but were, rather, the body's attempt to shake off memories so vivid they hurt. The intense chemical reaction of a person who survived. It was shock, essentially. Her dream had brought it all back, and it would have to play through.
I wanted to go to her, wrap her in my arms, soothe the shaking. I wanted to tell her how brave she was, how proud I was of her for how well she was doing. I wanted to tell her that it was okay to let go now because I was there for her.
Except I couldn't do any of that.
So I stayed in my corner and tried not to think about her. My tired mind started to wander, and I found myself thinking about King Arthur and Guinevere and Lancelot. I wondered if this was how Lancelot felt when he'd been tasked to guard the queen. The hard shield of duty and what was right, versus temptation wrapped up in compassion and need.
It wasn't hard to tell that Leighton wasn't asleep. Her breathing was ragged as the shivers still racked her body, and she periodically dragged the duvet tighter around her. I had no doubt she didn't see me as Lancelot, a noble knight trying to do what was right. At the moment, she probably hated me, thought I was some monster enjoying her discomfort.
But I wasn't enjoying it. It was tearing me up. I couldn't just sit here and not do anything. The least I could do was talk to her, try to distract her. Stories from back home. Anything. I almost stood up, but stopped before I'd really moved.
I couldn't do it. Not the storytelling part. That I could do. What I couldn't do was be that close to Leighton without touching her. And if I touched her, I wouldn't be able to stop.
So I stayed, reminding myself that she was strong, that she wanted to be independent, needed to be.
Somewhere in all that, I dozed, memories coming forward to shift into a dream.
We ran from the paparazzi down into a basement, panic and anger mixing. I wanted to stop and fight, but for her sake, I had to run. I had to get her to safety. We ran along looking to the water pipes, searching for the emergency exit. I disarmed the alarm, broke open the door, and helped Leighton inside.
A heavy hand grabbed her and pulled her through the door, screaming. I followed immediately, but she wasn't on the other side of the door. The basement stretched out into infinity and I ran. She was gone, but I could hear her still screaming. I chased the echoing sound through endless turns until, finally, she was in front of me.
On the ground.
Silent.
Unmoving.
I dropped to the ground in front of her, gathering her in my arms. Her beautiful curls were matted with blood, her body cold.
She was gone.
I'd failed her.
She was gone.
I jolted awake, my breathing ragged. Reality hit me and I realized I was clutching the blanket.
Had I called out? Her name still felt ragged in my throat.
I told myself I needed to make sure I hadn't woken her up, but really I just wanted to see her breathing. I needed to. The image of her limp and bloodied wouldn't leave until I saw for myself that she was alive and well.
I tiptoed to the bed and felt the air seep back into my lungs. Leighton had finally fallen asleep. I reached out to brush a curl from her cheek, but stopped myself before I touched her. I couldn't believe how much that dream had fueled my need to touch her, be with her. My entire body was crying out to crawl into bed with her, take her in my arms.
We had only slept together once – literally sleeping – and that deep, dreamless sleep called to me, so tempting that I couldn't turn back to the armchair. As I continued to look at her, it suddenly hit me. The gray dimness of night was gone, and the sun was inching over her picture window sill. I felt like I hadn't slept at all, but the sight of the sun gave me a second wind. If the sun was up, that meant the early shift at Silverlake Java would be starting soon. I had just enough time to change and drive there before it got crowded.
Looking down at Leighton, I whispered, “I promise you will never have to be afraid again. I'm going to find who did this.” She didn't even stir and I turned toward the door, then paused. I let myself add to the previous statement. “I'm going to find who did this and make sure they pay.”
Chapter 14
Leighton
I
woke up slowly, amazed that I'd slept at all. Warm sunlight was already reaching across my bed and the realization I had slept deeply without any more disturbing dreams was so sweet it took me a while to notice my aching muscles. I may have done my fair share of time at the gym, but I'd never worked as hard as I had in the past two days.
I rolled over and stretched, testing my ribs and the persisting pain I’ve tried to ignore. Then I pushed back the duvet. Last night, I'd been freezing, the fear from my dream turning my blood and body to ice. I remembered shivering uncontrollably, my muscles too tense from the nightmare to let go. My heart had been hammering, but I'd forced myself to breathe slowly, repeated to myself how it had been a natural reaction to what I'd been through.
The stretching felt great, and in the bright sunlight of my room, I felt wonderful. Not only had I survived a horrible ordeal, but I'd lived through the nightmare aftershocks of it, and gotten myself back under control. I'd asked Haze to stay, but when he'd chosen the chair in the corner instead of the bed, I'd calmed myself.
I turned over and looked at my empty overstuffed chair. My muscles twinged as I moved, and I immediately considered taking aspirin and going back to sleep. I wasn't upset that Haze was gone already. After all, I'd fallen asleep again and he'd been sitting in that chair. As I'd pointed out to him last night, protecting me from nightmares wasn't his job.
My cheeks still burned at the thought of Haze turning to the chair when I'd clearly been offering him my bed. I got up and kicked the chair as I walked by. I needed a distraction. Then I remembered my idea.
I crossed to my desk and found the list of numbers I'd written down. I picked up the paper and started toward the door, remembering only at the last minute that I was still in my pajamas. Since I wasn't about to take a leisurely breakfast and a slow morning, I needed to change into something else that would fit what I planned to do.
Once I'd pulled on jeans and the plainest t-shirt I could find, I flew out of my bedroom, determined to finish the pool house and use it to illustrate my pitch to the veterans’ hospital. I was so deep in thought about it that I didn't know my grandfather was there until he called out to me.
“Leighton, come join me on the patio,” Grandfather said.
I crossed over to the garden patio, shocked to see my grandfather sitting in the bright morning sun. A newspaper was spread out on the table in front of him, but his laptop wasn't there. As I gaped at him, Shandra brought a tray with a French press of coffee and two mugs.
Grandfather leaned back in his chair as I took a seat, fully expecting him to bury himself in the news while I drank coffee with him and admired the garden. Except he joined me in looking at the garden. Wisteria hung over the pergola while darker purple morning glories wrapped around the posts. Bright red geraniums held impossible amounts of blooms, and bright yellow roses gave a sweet scent to the morning breeze. It truly was amazing.
“It's about time we start enjoying this beautiful place.” Grandfather poured me a cup of coffee.
I stared at him, tentatively hopeful at this new development. “You're such an early riser, I have no idea how you waited this long for coffee.”
“Had more than one.” He winked at me, eyes sparkling.
“Speaking of early risers.” I tried to keep my tone casual. “Have you seen Haze?”
Grandfather paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth. “Ah, no, I haven't, but that doesn't mean he's not around.”
“I'm sure he's around,” I said with a shrug. “I just thought maybe all you early risers hung out together before normal people woke up.”
Grandfather studied me for a moment. “Maybe we should invite him to join us for coffee on the patio. It could be a new family tradition.”
“Breakfast with the bodyguard?” I asked.
“I don't see him that way, you know.” There was a pause, and then he continued, “He's a good man, and we're lucky to have him here with us.”
“Maybe too good,” I said quietly as I thought about Haze so righteously choosing the overstuffed armchair instead of my warm bed. Instead of the body I would've given him.
“Don't you think you're too hard on him?” Grandfather asked.
“Hard on
him
?” I shot a surprised look over at him. “He's the one constantly telling me to expect more of myself, pushing me to do things for myself.”
“Like I said, he's a good guy.” Grandfather leaned forward.
I looked down at my coffee. “Fine, yes, I'll admit that Haze is a good guy.” Then, for a reason I couldn't imagine, I added, “Any woman would be lucky to be with him.”
“So why aren't you with him?” Grandfather asked. His tone was sincere, drawing my eyes back to him.
I suddenly didn't want to lie to him, or even brush it aside. With all the distance Grandfather and I had between us, I knew this could be the beginning of us closing that space. If I trusted him enough to be honest.
“I'm not good enough for him,” I said softly.
He considered that for a moment. “What kind of woman do you think would be good enough for Haze?”
“Someone smart, ambitious, and generous.” I gave Grandfather a tight, sad smile. “You know, all the things I'm not.”
Grandfather sighed. “I'm afraid I told you that too often. The truth of it is, I didn't know what to say to you, and lecturing you was just easier. You are smart, ambitious, and generous. And you are certainly good enough to be with Haze.”
I shook my head, more in negation of the last sentence than anything else. “Why in the world would someone like Haze get serious about someone like me?”
“Leighton, you have a good heart, and you can do whatever you set your mind or heart to,” Grandfather said firmly. “I don't want to hear you repeating all the nonsense other people have told you. The shit I've told you.”