Chapter 4

4

Leah

I lean back in one of Gage’s black couches. A mug of steaming coffee rests on the side table. This penthouse is beautiful, quiet. The city is peaceful from up high. I wonder if Gage takes it for granted. I wonder how long it would take, living here, for me to take it for granted.

I hope never.

One of my students has to analyze Wuthering Heights for her AP English class. It isn’t my favorite book, which means I’m not as familiar with it as I’d like to be for tutoring. Time for a re-read.

But my old battered copy, with a million notes in the margins, is currently in a box in Dmitri’s garage.

After taking a too-hot sip, I text Dmitri to see if I can swing by for the book.

He messages back immediately. No problem. I’m not at home, but you still have the key.

Cue the inward grimace. I should’ve left the key behind, but I liked feeling some claim to his house. I’m the girl who has a key. It makes me feel special. I’m a little embarrassed that he noticed I kept it.

But he didn’t ask for it back, either.

Perhaps things aren’t irreparably broken between us.

Feeling better about, oh, pretty much everything, I drive over to Dmitri’s.

The morning sun slants through the trees. I marvel at how bright it turns the new leaves. It’s only the beginning of March, but spring comes early to San Esteban because winters are so mild.

Dmitri’s house comes into view. My stomach gives a little swoop of excitement, even though I know he won’t be here. That crush I have on him? Incurable.

I had a crush on him from day one. Sixth grade, the first time Danica invited me over. Her big brother had awed me with his large frame and gentle nature. He was respectful, mature. He teased me the same way he teased Danica, but that didn’t matter. My crush thrived, fed by his attention and kindness. I replayed every interaction, daydreaming about how his jokes were veiled attempts at courtship.

But the crush remained small until one summer, years later. His family invited me to their cabin in Kinasey County. On the third day into our two-week vacation, I sprained my ankle playing soccer on the lawn. Dmitri was the one who kept me company when everyone else, even Danica, went swimming or hiking. He fetched me snacks, ice cream, books, whatever I wanted.

I always had a crush, but I was a complete goner after that trip.

I park in the driveway because he isn’t home. His key is easy to find in the outer pocket of my purse. I open the door and step inside.

The couch grabs my attention immediately, with its plump, gray cushions beckoning me toward memory lane. Nope. Not going to do it. I came, we fucked, we both came. I left.

The garage door is at the end of the hall. I have to go past Dmitri’s bedroom to get there. I glance inside and see a hastily-made bed. A pair of gym shorts lie on the floor next to his clothes hamper next to the door. It’s like he tossed them, didn’t make the shot, and couldn’t be bothered to try again.

I flat-out refused to pick up Mick’s clothes—but I bend and grab Dmitri’s shorts, then drop them into the hamper. A small favor that he’ll never know I did.

I stood in this doorway, that first night I stayed over. I watched him jerk off on the couch. A flash of heat washes over me, just like it did that night.

What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t want you, Leah. At least, he doesn’t want to want you.

Without obeying the stop stop stop messages from my brain, my feet carry me all the way into his room. My hands pick up one of his pillows. And my lungs suck in a gulp of his scent. I pick up notes of his lemongrass shower gel. I wonder if he would notice if I stole the bottle. Obviously, he would notice. But would he mind?

I’m acting like a silly teenager with a crush.

Scoffing at my own behavior, I make my way to the garage, unlatch the deadbolt, and step inside. I flip the switch on the wall to illuminate the finicky fluorescent lights.

Now, which box of books is Wuthering Heights hiding in? Dmitri put all the book boxes to one side of the garage, close to the house door. It’s like he knew I would want to get at these first. I go through two boxes before I find the Bront? book.

Jane Austen’s Emma is right beneath it, so I grab that, too. Wuthering Heights is dreadfully angsty. I’ll need a chaser of Austen once I’m through with my re-read.

Books in hand, I leave the garage, locking up behind me.

When I turn to go back down the hall past Dmitri’s room, a tall, lanky form is standing in the hallway right next to me.

I shriek and swing out with my heavy bag.

“Hey, Leah, it’s me!” The guy holds up his arms. He has close-cropped light brown hair, the beginnings of a goatee, and vibrant blue eyes. But one of those eyes is swollen and bruised.

Despite his shiner, I recognize him.

I pull back my bag mid-swing and laugh. “Patrick, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, sorry. I was coming by to see if Dmitri wants to go for a run. He didn’t answer and the door was unlocked, so I came in.”

“He’s not here.” My heart is still trying to slow down. “Hell, that was scary.”

“No kidding. I nearly got maimed by a—you call this thing a purse? It’s more like a bludgeon.”

“That’s how I was going to use it. In self-defense, creeper. Is that how you got your black eye? Sneaking up on unsuspecting women?”

He laughs. “I forgot how funny you are. And no, I had a little dust-up with a punk in Salding.” He peers more closely at my face. “Looks like we match. What happened to you?”

“I had a dust-up of my own.” I’m not wearing make-up to hide my bruises. I don’t mind not sharing details, because he didn’t either. And I still need to talk to Danica. Shit. I’ll text her today, see if we can grab coffee.

“Well, if Dmitri isn’t here,” Patrick says, “do you want to go for a run?”

I look around. “I see no fires, no rampaging grizzly bears, and no bookstore sales. Therefore, I have no reason to run, sorry.”

“That’s fair. I guess I’ll head out. You have a key to this place?”

“Temporarily.” I walk with him to the living room, key clutched in my hand. “In fact, I should leave this here.”

Because what am I doing with Dmitri’s key? I have no claim on him. But I’m walking into his bedroom and sniffing his pillow like some kind of stalker. Picking up his dirty laundry and dropping it in the hamper for him like a bang-maid.

I drop the key on the coffee table. It winks at me, daring me to reconsider.

Nope. I need to cut ties.

We step outside. I make sure the door is locked from the inside, locking us out of the house.

“Why did you have a key?” Patrick asks.

“I had to stay here for a bit after I broke up with Mick.” Not that it’s any of his business. Still, he’s Dmitri’s cousin, so I understand his curiosity.

“Huh. Okay, see you later, Leah.” He takes off at a jog.

It’s hard to believe he and Dmitri are related, sometimes. Patrick is lanky whereas Dmitri is broad. Even his face is narrower, and it looks even thinner with the goatee he’s growing.

As if he senses me watching him, he turns around and jogs backward, offering me a wave.

I wave back, then start toward my car.

My phone rings. It takes me a second to fish it out of my bag. Once I do, I see an unfamiliar number. I get a lot of those. It’s often parents calling to hire me for tutoring, so I answer.

“Hi, is this Leah?” a feminine voice asks.

“Yes, it is,” I say.

“Hey. I’m Janelle. I saw your post about looking for an apartment. My roommates and I are looking for one more. Do you want to meet us for an informal interview, and check the place out?”

Is that disappointment I feel? Even though I’ve been trying to get a place for two weeks?

Shoving it to the side, I say, “Yeah, I’d love to come by.”

* * *

Gage

“Hey.” Leah looks up from a tattered paperback when I walk into the penthouse.

“Hey yourself, little girl.” I was hoping she’d be awake. I even left the club earlier than usual, eager to return home to Leah.

It’s a rather strange sensation, having a reason to come home early.

And home smells…good. I ask, “Did you cook something?”

She stands and starts toward me, then stops awkwardly a few feet away. “I found some things in the kitchen and made breakfast for dinner—muffins and a breakfast quiche. I hope that’s okay?”

“More than okay. Is there enough for me?” I drop my keys on the table by the door and hold out my arms, walking toward her. I feel like I’m playing a part. Man coming home to his affectionate partner.

“Of course.” She meets me in the middle of the living room and slides easily into my embrace.

This isn’t a part I’m playing. I’ve really come home to an affectionate partner. And my enjoyment, the warm gratitude filling my chest, isn’t faked. I don’t have to pretend with her.

“Did you have a good day?” I ask.

“I did—and I have news.” She steps back to face me, out of my arms. “There’s an apartment available. I got a call in the afternoon and went to look at it. They have several people interested, but I’m at the top of their list after our interview?—”

“You interviewed?” Does she want to get out of my penthouse so quickly? “Sorry, I interrupted. Continue.”

Her nervous tone increases and she looks away. “Well, I could have a place of my own. I mean, with several roommates. And I could stop imposing on you.”

“Imposing?”

“Um. Well. I know you took me in because I didn’t have anywhere else but Dmitri’s, and I won’t stay with him, and you didn’t want me at the hotel.”

Seeing her bruised cheek below her shining blue eyes, all I want to do is hold her and offer comfort.

“I want you here,” I finally say. “I thought I made that very clear.”

“Gage, we’re not even—I mean, are we dating? What is this?”

“I told you I want a relationship. I want you in my home and in my life.” I keep my voice quiet and hold my face as still and emotionless as possible. If she’s in a rush to get out of my apartment, I’m not going to stop her.

My chest hurts, though. There’s a dull, aching void where my heart should be.

I haven’t been in a real relationship in over a decade. I gave up on love. But with Leah, I wanted it. I still want it. If I lose her, I’ll never find someone like her again. She may be my last chance at happiness.

She stares at the floor. “I thought that was just because I didn’t have anywhere to stay.”

“Leah.” I step forward until our toes are nearly touching. “I realize it may seem fast to an outsider. You probably aren’t used to moving in with someone after only two weeks of knowing them. But you’re here now. I would like you to stay.”

Leah gives me a pensive look. She’s considering my request. I hold my breath, waiting. All is quiet save the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the quiet, hopeful thuds of my heartbeat.

“I want to pay rent,” she says in a rush. Before I can argue, she adds, “I can’t afford what I ought to pay for a place like this. But I don’t want to be, like, a sugar baby.”

“That was never my intention.” Although I would love nothing more than to spoil her silly. “How much do you think is fair?”

“I’ll give you double what I would have paid at the house I visited today. They didn’t want much because I would’ve been sharing a bedroom with one of the roommates.”

“And you won’t be sharing a bedroom with me?”

Her cheeks pinken. “Not officially, no. I…I want my own room sometimes. You’re intense, and I just got out of a bad relationship, and sometimes I might need space.”

“I’m intense. Interesting.” I touch the tip of her chin, tilting her face toward mine.

“Yes. Also, I like waking up to sunlight, not the cavern of eternal darkness vibes you have going on in your bedroom.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Understood.”

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek before whirling away. While she types something on her phone, I touch my face where her lips pressed. She is a force of light and laughter, and I’m certain I don’t deserve her.

“There.” She holds up her phone. “I turned down the housing offer. I’m staying here. We should hash out a rental agreement.”

“You’re my girlfriend. You don’t need a rental agreement.”

Her blush is deeper this time. I think she’s pleased that I called her my girlfriend.

Although “girlfriend” sounds too juvenile for what I feel. I’m two years from turning forty. I’d rather see her as a partner. But that sounds too much like a business arrangement. Betty and Margot are my partners.

Leah is simply…mine. My little girl.

Thinking of her that way makes my cock flex in interest. Do I want to take on a daddy role?

I might.

Later, perhaps. She’s new to kink. I don’t want to frighten her off with this errant thought. I’ll consider it silently, in my own mind, and let our relationship develop naturally. I can wait to see how she responds to different cues. Already, she accepts the diminutive pet names. She loves praise.

“Gage?” Her voice is hesitant. “Are you okay?”

I refocus on her, on returning to the present moment. “I’m great. But I’ll be even better if you’re writhing on my fingers, baby girl.”