Although. Would he hold Eden’s hand? Put his arm around her waist? Touch her like he’s handling spun glass, with a dark, unreadable expression in his eyes?
I don’t know.
Logic tells me it doesn’t matter. That I’m a client, and nothing more.
But my heart? My heart remembers how it felt when I first met Indy. How the vulnerability he was desperately trying to hide just caught me. It remembers the little jolt of happiness I’d feel whenever I’d see him. And it remembers the ache when our sessions were over and I had no reason to see Indy again.
“It’s not that cold,” I protest, not quite ready to go back inside yet. Don’t get me wrong, the B and A headquarters are nice, with the large but cozy living room and a kitchen plucked straight from my dreams. And that’s not even counting the gym I’ve seen but not yet used, and the panic room in the basement Indy made sure to show me.
“You won’t need to use it,” he assured me. “But I thought it might make you feel safer. Knowing it’s here.”
It does. But what makes me feel even safer? Indy.
“You’re still recovering,” Indy shoots back.
“A little chill in the air isn’t going to set me back,” I reply with a smile. “And I grew up in Pittsburgh, remember? We got plenty of cold weather and snow there.”
Indy looks at me, his gaze assessing. “I just don’t want you pushing yourself too much, Bea. I brought you here to keep you safe. Not for you to get hurt. Or make yourself sick.”
The intensity in his eyes makes my heart do a little flip.
It’s just out of some sense of duty, I remind myself.Don’t read into it. Don’t hope for things that will never happen.
“How about this,” he offers. “We’ll take the long route back to the house. Check out the stream on the north side of the property. And we can get the fire going once we’re back. Have something warm to drink. How does that sound?”
It sounds lovely, actually.
And if the circumstances were different, I might even think of it as a date.
Is that bad, thinking about dates and my attraction towards Indy when there’s so much to worry about? When I should be mourning Jenna’s death and not indulging in hopeful fantasies?
Although, I think Jenna would understand.
Jenna, ever the romantic, would probably tell me to make the first move.
I can practically see her, sitting in a booth at Calliope’s, little hearts dancing in her eyes. Telling me,“Bea. You haven’t been on a date in ages. And you’ve thought about this guy for years. Maybe he’s the one you’ve been waiting for. How can you not see where it leads?”
The loss comes crashing into me again, making my throat thick and my nose prickle with threatening tears.
“Bea?” Indy wraps his arm around my waist, drawing me closer to him. His expression is creased with worry. “What’s wrong?”
Glancing around, I realize we’ve started heading back to the house without me noticing.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I reply. “I was just thinking.” Do I tell him the rest? “About Jenna,” I add after a brief hesitation.
He hugs me closer to him. “Ah, I’m sorry, Bea. I know it’s got to be hard. If you want to talk about her, I’m always here to listen. Or Eden, if you’d prefer?—”
“I’d rather talk to you.” A beat later, I realize that doesn’t sound very complimentary towards his sister. “I like Eden. She’s really nice. But… I guess I just feel more comfortable with you.”
In the silence that follows, self-doubt sweeps through me.
Then Indy says, “I feel comfortable with you, too.” His gaze moves from mine, scanning the thick clusters of trees around us. A yellow bird bursts from the branches of a large pine, streaking past us and up into the sky. When he looks back at me, emotion darkens his eyes. “I don’t talk about my prosthetic very much. Or those years… after. But with you, I don’t mind.”
My heart flips again. Flutters.
“You can talk to me about anything,” I tell him.
“Anything?”
