Inclining my head, I pressed my mouth to each of her cheeks, stepping back. “That's fair. Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated.
Before I could turn away and climb into my car, she jumped on me, slim arms coiling around my neck as she buried those luscious lips onto my own. Warm, buttery, her kiss left me dazed, out of breath. My ribs were still vibrating when she stepped away, chocolate eyes sparkling with mirth... and something more.
“Thank you, Deacon,” she gushed, rocking on her heels with that strange innocence that intrigued me. “Just... thank you so much. Okay, um, good night then, for real!”
She scurried away, almost skipping down the walkway, back towards Vanessa's door.
How can someone who went through as much as she has, still have so much pure, child-like life to her?
I had no idea, but I was determined not to ever let that light in Leah die out.
Not ever.
Chapter 22.
––––––––
It was late the next day before I even heard from Leah. Surprisingly, she called my phone. After the discussion about her ex last night, I didn't expect her to turn the device back on anytime soon.
She'd asked me to wait for her outside my apartment, a request that was extremely odd, but one I had no reason to argue against. So, for around five minutes, I had been leaning on the bottom step below my place. Staring idly at the sky, it was the sound of tires that drew my attention to the street. The rumbling engine of the car continued, all the way until it pulled up before me. It was several seconds after it parked that I actually recognized the driver.
“Leah?” Baffled, I looked on while she opened the door, climbing out, offering me an apologetic smile.
“So, this thing I wanted to tell you last night? Yeah, this is sort of it.”
“You bought a car?” I asked, my steps quick, bringing me to stand beside her and the vehicle. “But... why? Not that I think it's a bad idea exactly, but I thought you were worried about affording to stay here.”
“I was,” she said. “I mean, I am. I'm constantly worried, I won't lie about that. But when Vanessa kicked me out, I needed to do something.”
Lifting my eyebrows, I squinted from her guilty expression, to the car, then back. Oh god, has she... “No, Leah, no! You've been living in your car?”
Her shrug was embarrassed, her stance crooked while she kicked at the sidewalk. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“You could have told me what had happened.” Sighing, I rubbed the back of my neck. It was hard to blame her for her decision, even though it bothered me she hadn't just asked me for help. I was gleaning more and more that the girl I had fallen for was not exactly capable of giving up what small pride she felt she had.
Even if it meant sleeping in a car.
“I was worried you'd get upset at me for it,” she admitted. “I didn't know how to handle Vanessa fighting with me, it felt terrible to let her down, I guess I sort of thought I deserved to suffer some.”
Her admission of self-penance brought a bloom of coldness to my blood, especially with everything I knew about her now. Imagining that logic, how it was clearly not the first time she had used it to justify how she was being treated, it forced the nauseous concept of her ex, Owen, into my head. I'd been struggling to erase the leaps of assumption when I had finally gotten into bed last night.
It hadn't been easy.
Wanting to change the subject, I cleared my throat quickly. “How is she, by the way?”
“Vanessa? She's still sad, but she was better today. I don't...” Leah stalled, then looked at me closely as she went on. “I'm not sure she's that upset over it, actually. I got the impression, and please don't ever say this, that she never quite liked Greg that much. She was always very sharp with him, didn't trust him. Though I guess she was right not to.”
Nodding slowly, I pursed my lips. “And you two, are you and her doing better?”
Leah smiled, a small burst of happiness that made my heart pump. “Yes, actually. Much better. I seriously think she was just on edge and stressed about the stuff going on with Greg. It sucks to think it took something so horrible to bring her and I back together, but I'll take it.”
“Tragedy can do that,” I said. It can also do the opposite. “You slept at her place last night, not your car, I hope.”
With pink cheeks, she gave her car a soft tap on the hood. “I did, on the couch like I used to. Please don't think too much about me crashing in my car, okay? It was really only for two nights, it wasn't that bad.”
“Sorry, I just—you could have stayed with me, I would have let you sleep here at my apartment without question.”
Leah chewed at the side of her lip, glancing off to the side at nothing. “Come on, that's a lot to ask out of someone so quickly. The last thing I wanted was to make things worse by putting any burden on you, Deacon.”
Curling my fingers around the back of her neck, I tangled them in her thick hair, guiding her the short distance forward so I could kiss her softly. She tasted like mint, I couldn't get enough of it. Focus, focus, I reminded myself. Pulling back, my nose rubbing hers, my voice was raspy. “Leah, you're not a burden. We're dating, or did you forget that?”
“No,” she whispered, watching me through her dark lashes. “Of course I didn't. But it's really been such a short time, we can't pretend it hasn't.”
“I can pretend whatever I like.” My words tickled her cheek, the grin I flashed mischievous. “Pretty sure I'm allowed that, actually. There's no time limit here for me, I don't need you to meet some quota before I'm willing to help you.”
“That's not true,” she mumbled. “There is a time limit, you said it yourself before. I just bought a car, I'm down to scrap money, and I didn't get that intern job. Deacon, you're worried about me having to leave because I can't afford to stay... how much more of a time limit can there be?”
So much of her stress comes from thinking she's failing, that she's not worth caring about. I can't take it anymore.
My sudden smile must have confused her, she furrowed her brows, leaning slightly away. Not dissuaded, I gripped her forearms tightly, sliding my fingers into hers like a lock and key.
“Leah, come with me, I need to show you something, I'm not waiting any longer.”
****
If I'd had my way, I would have covered her eyes, made a huge show of everything. Instead, able to tell the poor girl was getting nervous, we paused inside my room just in front of the door to my patio. “Are you ready?”
“I have no idea,” she said, rubbing the outside of one arm.
Grinning firmly, I turned the knob, pushing it open to reveal the stack of canvases I'd arranged outside. I had placed an easel near them, a few leaves from the encroaching Fall decorating the supporting frame. Even though I had given her left-over supplies from my gallery before, I'd bought her a whole collection of brand new brushes, paints, their bottles shining in the midday sun.
“Do you like it?” I asked, bustling with excitement over my surprise.
“I don't understand.” Unable to look away from the display, Leah stepped out onto the patio, inching towards the easel. “What is all this, Deacon?”
Following her, enjoying her stunned eyes, I laughed lightly. “It's for you, isn't that obvious?”
“No,” she said, “none of this is obvious. Why, why give me all of this?”
“Well,” I answered coyly, folding my arms behind my back. “How else are you going to get all the paintings done for your new gallery?”
Leah turned, staring at me in absolute shock.
“I suppose you could try to put together a gallery without any paint at all, but pure white canvas may be a bit—” I didn't finish my sarcastic comment, she'd jumped into my arms, stolen my air with a hard kiss that made everything, every bit of waiting to give her the news, worth it.
“How!” She gasped, grabbing my face, her thumbs brushing my skin. “How did you—a gallery? Tha
t's...”
Unable to stop smiling, I wrapped my arms around her middle, laughing. “I took the painting you made me to the people who run mine, told them you were a new, up and coming artist with lots of skill and potential.”
“I—they believed that?”
“Of course!” I lifted my eyebrows. “Why wouldn't they believe me?”
“I'm not any of those things, not really!”
“Tsk,” I clicked my tongue. “I wouldn't have vouched for you if I didn't think so. And, honestly, as much as I give myself credit here, they wouldn't have gone for it if the piece you had done hadn't impressed them.” Watching her closely, I witnessed her open jaw become a smile, but before I could enjoy that, it twisted to a frown. Tears boiled over, escaping down to her jawline in rivulets. “Leah! What's wrong, what is it?”
Sniffling, she scrubbed at her eyes, her cheeks, then laughed. “Nothing, sorry, I'm just—this is amazing, I don't know how to handle it. A gallery? I'm going to have my work in a gallery? That was my dream, Deacon, for so long... I wasn't expecting it to come true, I never once really thought it could.”
Inside of me, I felt a strong glow, a blossom of glorious energy that demanded to keep growing. Unsure what else to do with that sensation, I tucked her head to the crook of my neck and laughed with her. I'm unsure how long it lasted, that moment of boundless joy that was so contagious. We kept infecting each other until our laughs became giggles, then gasps of helpless air.
I really couldn't have even guessed, I only wanted it to stretch on forever. I wanted more, more of...
More of her, I want more of her.
Eventually, as my hands stroked her hair, her limbs wrapped around my middle, Leah began to untangle us both. Leaning back, a half-step gave her enough room to smile up at me, brown eyes still glistening like rain puddles. “I honestly don't know how to thank you, Deacon. This is more than I deserve.”
“It isn't,” I chided her, trying to keep from pulling her back to me. “But, you can thank me by doing what I know you will anyway.”
“What's that?”
“Painting wonderful things.” Chuckling, I dusted myself off casually, glancing at the sky. “The show is in two weeks, think you can get it done in time?”
Leah took on a thoughtful look, fingers linking together at her waist. “Two weeks? Yeah, I think I can do that, but...”
“But?” I coaxed her, smiling instantly as her own began to form at the corners again.
“But, I might need to stay pretty late a few nights to do it.”
Taking her chin gently in my hand, I stepped close, my shadow covering her while I gave in to my hunger for another taste of her lips. “Stay as late as you need to.”
And I meant it.
****
So it began, the first time I witnessed Leah painting, but certainly not the last. She was beautiful to watch, graceful, poised, each stroke seeming to be accidental until I saw the picture forming. Watching what she was capable of, it flooded me with a mix of emotions, a gamut of reactions that often ran opposed to each other.
I was proud, extremely proud of her. There was nothing else like it, wishing for someone to do their best, then actually seeing it happen. The first night, I sat there on the patio and watched in silence, encouraging her initially when she seemed too shy to start.
By the end, hours later as my neck was stiff and she seemed on the verge of exhaustion, my feelings had started to crawl in a direction I didn't like.
How is it possible for her to be so good? Was I ever like this, before I took lessons? Am I even as good as she is, now? Real talent, this is real talent in front of me.
Jealousy was not something I was used to.
My knees creaked when as I stood, approaching her with an inherent, quiet respectfulness. “Leah, you should take a break.”
“Hmm?” She asked, staring at me like I had just appeared out of the blue. “Oh. Uh, alright, I guess we should eat something.”
Staring at her, the paint smudge on her hands, the bristling of disbelief made me falter. “You'd keep going, I mean, if I hadn't stopped you, you'd just paint until you fell over. Wouldn't you?”
“What are you talking about?” Leah gave me a doubtful squint, setting her brush down, rubbing her palms on a rag. “Of course I'd stop before that, give me some credit.”
I'm not sure I believe her.
The days continued like that, Leah swamped in her work, me observing with increasing unease. I was astounded by her determination, she was crushing my expectations into dust. Still, when she painted, there was a wall that came up that kept me from feeling like we were even in the same reality.
I wondered if she noticed me watching her, if she felt my eyes while I studied her strokes.
She'd started sleeping over the second week, a gesture I was grateful for. In those moments, wrapped in my blankets, our bodies warming each other in our private bubble, it was almost rejuvenating. I forgot my insecurities, for what else could I call them?
Linked together, my arms across her shoulder, hand drifting to the curve of her hip, I listened to the sound of her unconscious breathing and tried to let myself find comfort in it. My mind was alive, though, cruel in how it kept me from sleeping.
When we're awake, she doesn't really see me now, when we sleep, I can't let myself give in completely to do the same.
This was a side of me I was frightened of, it brought back the memories of another woman, someone who had also just as easily ignored me when she was caught up in her work.
Tight shoulders, shut eyes, blonde hair tickling her collar bone...
Stop thinking about Bethany.
But I couldn't. This situation was too similar, even down to the disparity in our skills. Bethany had always been talented at singing, she worshiped music, loved it more than anything.
She loved it more than she loved me, so stop thinking about that, this isn't the same, it isn't.
Recalling how Leah had looked at me when I pulled her away from her art, that confused, uncertain glint in her eyes that indicated she had been surprised to even see me... it cut away at the part of me I wanted to keep buried forever.
Could the girl I was letting myself fall for faster than a skydive, actually resent me for not working as hard, for not being as good, as she herself was?
She won't leave you like Bethany did, she's not the same.
Lying there, focusing absently on the elegant length of Leah's neck, how her hair vibrated when I breathed, I wondered if I was wrong after all.
Chapter 23.
––––––––
The scent of pancakes drew me from sleep, my arm sliding over the blankets beside me in search for the familiar body of Leah. Not finding her, I cracked my eyes, shrugging the mantle of slumber off so I could understand what was wrong.
In my room, I found no sign of her. Shirtless, in only my boxers, I slid to the floor and moved towards where my intuition assumed she would be. Already working, how can she get up so early? Opening the patio, the only thing that greeted me was the early, crisp air in the wake of a cloudy sky. November was making itself known, but I wasn't prepared to give it the time.
Shutting the door, confused by not finding Leah painting away, I inhaled the sweet scent of someone cooking again. No, she can't be, can she? Tugging a shirt over my head, then the jeans from the night before, I hopped down the stairs in search of my missing bed-mate.
Leaning into the kitchen, my eyes fixed on the surprising, but welcome, sight before me. At the stove, Leah was flipping another fresh pancake onto a small stack beside her. Carlo was hovering over the girl, anxious as he watched her skills. “Right, that's better, that one isn't too brown.”
“He likes them light, like this?”
“Yes, exactly, much better Leah.” Carlo grinned, sensing me when I stepped closer. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave a delighted shout. “And look, he rises from the grave!”
“Deacon!” Leah beamed, turning so I could spot the smu
dges of batter on her apron. It reminded me of the paint stains she'd been sporting these past days.
“What is all this?” I asked, the smell of food making my stomach clench and rumble.
Carlo placed a hand on the middle of my spine, guiding me to the small table he and I owned. We only had two chairs, but now there was also a pile of couch cushions to substitute a third. “Shh, it's just a little treat Leah and I decided to cook up for you.”
“Leah and you, both of you?” I questioned, arching an eyebrow in amusement. “Since when do you make me breakfast, Carlo?”
“You caught me, it was her idea,” he sighed, shrugging like the jig was up. “I only jumped in to help when she started producing blackened char instead of breakfast.”
With obvious embarrassment, Leah set a plate of fluffy pancakes in front of me, a bottle of syrup soon joining it. After the comment about burning things, I couldn't help lifting the circular treats, searching for any hint of charcoal. “But these look fine to me!”
Heavily, Carlo slammed another plate down beside me, dropping onto the cushions as he did so. “That's because I helped her remake them.” Gripping the syrup, he poured a torrent of sweetness over the darker pancakes before him.
“Those don't look so bad,” I said, baffled by the situation. He shoveled in a sticky mouthful, chewing while looking pointedly from me, to Leah as she sat across from us both. There, on her dish, were two severely blackened discs I would have hesitated to identify as edible. “Oh, Leah, no, you don't need to eat those!”
“I don't want to waste them,” she said with a smile, swirling viscous caramel over the depressing mess. Carlo and I looked on, marveling at her when Leah shoved a forkful into her mouth. Instantly, she winced, clearly not enjoying the taste.
Shaking my head, I lifted my plate, sliding one of my own pancakes onto her stack. “There's more than enough, let me share.”
“But I was trying to make those for you,” she argued, sinking down in her chair.
“Just eat it.” Carlo smirked, eyeing us as he waved his fork. “Deacon will fall into a pit of despair if you don't accept his generosity.”
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 105
