Leave a Mark (33 page)

“I always get my way?” Lee asked, amused to see himself from her eyes.

“Well, of course.” Indignation dripped from her voice. “From the first day I met you, you’ve gotten your way with me—”

“No, I didn’t get to have my way with you until yesterday,” he teased.

“Ha-ha. Very funny. I remember being given no choice but to accept a ride home from the hospital. And then you took my favorite puppy—“

“Which, I hope you now see was best for everyone—“

“Stop interrupting. I’m making a point,” she said, poking her finger against his chest.

She couldn’t see his grin, but when his laughter shook the bed, he heard her suppress her own giggles.

“Then you wouldn’t leave my studio until I’d given you a tattoo
and
my phone number, which pretty much brings us to tonight when you insisted on coming over, even though I’d left your house to be alone.”

“Let me just point out that this, too, was best for everyone.” Lee was glad that she was laughing because, now that she’d mentioned it, he realized that when it came to Wren, he wasn’t very good at accepting
“no.”

This was a first.

For so much of his life, he’d accepted disappointment and denial. He’d accepted the choices other people made for him without insisting on what he wanted. But now that he wanted Wren, he couldn’t accept not having her. Not without a fight. He’d only give ground if he knew she’d be happier without him. And nothing he’d seen so far gave that any credence. So far, his persistence had paid off.

“You know what this means, right?” he asked.

“What?” Wren asked, sounding skeptical.

“It means there’s no point in fighting me. I’ll get my own way eventually, and it’ll be better for everyone anyway.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Yes, but you didn’t emphasize the part about it being better for everyone.”

Wren snorted. She actually snorted. Lee’s laughter made Victor sit up at the edge of her bed.

“Goodnight, Dr. Hawthorne.”

Lee pulled her close again, kissing her lips… her cheek… her neck…

“Goodnight, Wren.”

LEE’S PHONE ANNOUNCED
five a.m. After he silenced it, Wren felt him pull her against his warmth and kiss her on the forehead. Her heart turned over in her chest. She’d told him everything. She’d told him, and he hadn’t wanted to leave. The last two nights, she’d slept in the circle of his embrace, and it was the safest, warmest place she’d ever known.

Lying in bed with him, she rarely stirred awake, but the couple of times she had, Lee would stir, too. He’d resettle them together and tuck her head against his heart or spoon behind her, depending on which way she rolled. His devotion and desire — even half-asleep — moved her like nothing else.

When his snooze alarm went off again, Wren squeezed him tight, earning a sleepy chuckle from him before she let him go.

“Going feed and walk Victor before I shower,” he whispered. “I’ll come kiss you goodbye when I leave.”

“Okay.”

Lee slipped out of bed and drew the covers up around her again, tucking her in. The gesture made her smile. She closed her eyes and listened to him move through her apartment, talking sweetly to his dog. His puppy love was the cutest thing in the world. Even without the puppy, Lee Hawthorne was pretty damn cute.

Wren rolled onto her back and listened as they went out and came back in moments later, Lee praising Victor for being such a good boy. The light in her bathroom clicked on, the closing door softening it, and she heard him turn on the shower.

It was then Wren remembered he had a twenty-four-hour shift ahead of him. How could he manage it? She’d had the day off yesterday, and she was still exhausted. Wren kicked off the covers and got out of bed. If he was going to work until this time tomorrow, she wasn’t going to let him leave on an empty stomach.

She managed to slip into the bathroom undetected, but when she turned on the faucet to brush her teeth, Lee poked his head out of the shower, his dark hair sudsy with her shampoo, his neck and shoulders glistening.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I got up,” she said around her toothbrush, making him grin.

“You should go back to bed. That’s where I’d be if I didn’t have to get up.”

Wren rinsed and spit. “Finish your shower.”

“If you’re not going back to bed, come join me.” He opened the shower door a little wider, and Wren let herself take a peek. Holy cow. It didn’t matter how many times she saw him; she’d always want to take a peek.

But she managed to shake her head. “Tempting, but no.”

Undaunted, mischief lit his eyes. “C’mon. You said I always get my way. Why break that streak?”

She gave him an eye roll and left the bathroom to the sound of his laughter.

Two minutes later, Wren cracked three eggs into her cast iron skillet. She hoped Lee liked them over-easy. The toast popped, and she swapped the pieces out with two more slices of bread when she heard his shower cut off.

With a practiced hand, she deftly flipped the first egg and let it come sizzling down. It held together perfectly, glazed in just a little coconut oil, and she moved onto the others. She’d just buttered the last piece of toast when Lee walked in and stopped in the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

Wren glanced over her shoulder to see him wearing sexy slacks, a gray button down, and a confused look.

“I’m making you breakfast.” She turned back to the task, so she didn’t notice him approach until his hands settled on her hips and his mouth met her neck.

“You’re making me breakfast?” he asked, his voice filled with awe.

“Uh… yeah. That’s what I said.” She aimed her sarcasm at him with a side-eye glance, but when she saw the look on his face, she sobered. She quickly moved her skillet off the burner and turned. “What? What’s wrong?”

He just stared at her for a moment, his eyes molten, his lips parted. In the next instant, his right hand came up over her mouth, and his left met the small of her back. He tugged her forward until her pelvis pressed against him.

Her “What the—” came out “Rut la—” and Lee’s eyes locked with hers.

“Wren…” His lashes seemed to weigh down his eyelids.

She’d never noticed how long they were. And the blue in his eyes never looked so endless.

“…I love you.”

Her startled inhale made him press his hand tighter against her mouth, and his eyes widened, but they couldn’t have matched her own. “Don’t say anything. You’re not allowed to say anything,” he ordered. “I know you’re not ready. I know it’s too soon for you, but I need you to know that I love you.”

Frozen, Wren stared at him. Clearly satisfied that she couldn’t speak or run away, Lee’s eyes warmed again, and the warmth spread to his smile.

“I love you.” Though his hands didn’t move, she felt his body relax, and his smile grew. “It feels so good to say it… I love you, Wren.”

Wren was glad she wasn’t allowed to say anything. She
couldn’t
have said anything. The lump in her throat would never allow it. All she could do was concentrate on blinking away the tears that stung her eyes.

Seeing them, Lee’s smile broke its borders. “Don’t say anything,” he whispered, closing in on her and moving his hand off her mouth to her cheek. His lips met hers, and she threw her arms around him and held on tight.

Her mouth opened for him, and he spoke the impossible words again as he kissed her.

A moment later he pulled back. “You’re trembling.”

All she could do was nod.

“It’s okay.”

She nodded again, and Lee brushed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away one rogue tear.

“It’s okay,” he said again.

Wren cleared her throat and said the first thing that came to her. “It’s just eggs, you know.”

Lee threw his head back in laughter and caught her to him again in a hug. His laughter was catching, so she gave into it, escaping the intensity of the moment and pressing her face into the comfort of his quaking chest. She felt him press kisses against the top of her head and her cheeks.

Still laughing, he pulled her into the crook of his left arm and reached for the skillet. “It’s just eggs. And I plan to eat them while they’re hot… Where’s your plate?” He scanned the counter for a plate other than the one with four pieces of buttered toast.

“This is for you. I’ll eat later.”

Lee looked down at her and frowned. “Three eggs and four pieces of toast? I don’t think so.”

Without letting her go, he opened the cabinet one-handed and took down another plate.

Wren shrugged. “I thought you might need it… after what happened last night.”

She felt, rather than saw, the tremor that passed through him, but he just hugged her tighter.

“Well, you take one egg and half the toast,” he said, tilting the skillet over her plate to let one egg slide out. He took the other two and divided the toast.

“I was going to make coffee,” she offered, but Lee just shook his head.

“No time. And there’s plenty at the hospital.”

“At least have some juice.” She pulled away to take glasses from the cabinet and the plastic container from the fridge.

Lee met her at the table with their plates and forks. When she sat next to him, he grabbed the leg of her chair and tugged her over until their seats touched. Wren
tsked
and shook her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

“What?” He shrugged, feigning innocence and settling his left hand on her knee. “So, where are you going to be this time tomorrow?”

THE NEXT MORNING
found her in Lee’s bed. He’d convinced her to sleep at his house so they could spend time together before she went to the studio. She awoke to him collapsing beside her, muttering something about “so many babies.” He pulled her into his arms and promptly fell asleep. Three hours later, they met Cherise at Dwyer’s for her standing Thursday breakfast date with her best friend. Lee had French toast; Cherise had a cow.

Their schedules were at odds until Sunday when Lee again met her in his bed after the night shift. They would have six hours together until she went to work, but Wren knew Lee needed sleep.

So on Sunday morning, after snuggling with him until after nine, Wren decided to slip out of bed, make blueberry muffins, and let her man rest a little longer. She’d noticed the blueberries in his freezer the night before, so she padded into the kitchen in her tank-top, undies, and fuzzy socks to assess his pantry. As she suspected, he had the rest of the essentials for baking. As she got out the flour, sugar, and mixing bowl, Wren let herself imagine the look on his face when he awoke to homemade muffins.

She smiled to herself. It was so easy to make Lee happy. And making Lee happy was quickly becoming her top priority. He’d told her he loved her every chance he’d gotten, but she couldn’t let the words leave her mouth. Every time she thought about saying them, her lungs would freeze.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t want him to know how she felt. Loving Lee was the scariest thing she’d ever done. The only thing scarier than loving him would be admitting it out loud. But Lee was sweet and funny and sexy and perfect, and he made her feel like all the birds inked across her skin could take flight and lift her off the ground. And he was a good person — maybe the best, most sane and grounded person she’d ever known. So, even if she couldn’t
say
she loved him, she could show it.

Wren found the measuring spoons and cups, but there was a disturbing lack of music. Baking required music, and since she didn’t want to wake Lee, the jukebox was out of the question. Her purse sat by the back door, so she retrieved her earbuds, tapped her Spotify app, and got to work with Hozier. By the time
“innocence died screaming,”
Wren had mixed all of the dry ingredients.

She stirred in the milk, the vanilla, and the cooking oil and folded in the blueberries, humming along with Hozier about questions that shouldn’t be asked. And while darlings kissed
“like
real people do,”
she spooned muffin batter into a greased tin.

“It Will Come Back” opened just as she slid the dish into the oven. And at that moment, Victor tore through the kitchen toward the front room, squeaking his best puppy bark. Frowning, Wren turned to follow him into the living room, and her scream rattled the windows.

A man and a woman stood in Lee’s open doorway, staring at her with terror in their eyes. Victor postured between them, barking wildly. Wren yanked the buds from her ears, but her legs wouldn’t move.

“Oh, dear, Thomas,” the woman gasped, and that’s when Wren realized she was meeting Lee’s parents.

In her panties and tank-top.

The man facing her raked his eyes up and down her body, bringing a stinging blush to Wren’s cheeks.

“Um…” she managed.

“I’m sorry… miss,” Lee’s father seemed to choke on the word. “Is Leland at home? We knocked, but—“

“Dad? Jesus Christ.” Lee ran into the room and stepped in front of her, blocking her from view. “What’s going on?”

Over his bare shoulder, she watched his stepmother gape at the sight of him in nothing but his pajama shorts. Wren wished she could crawl into a hole. If she could make her legs do something other than knock together at the knees, she would escape to his bedroom. But she felt so naked.