I nod rapidly.
“I need you to not fuck up again, either. No reckless, impulsive decisions.”
“Okay, so... rules are: show up and don’t fuck up?”
Leo lets out a rough laugh, shaking his head, but movement in my periphery catches my gaze and pulls my eyes from him. Something flashes across one of the upstairs windows in the main house.
Her silhouette fills the window, long hair swaying past her shoulders as her head is cast down, stacking a pile of books on the sill. The late afternoon sun filters over her, casting her in gold.
She lifts her head, and her eyes immediately fall on mine.
Blue. She’s all blue.
Even from this distance, even behind the window, they’re a blazing aquamarine, searing right through the center of my chest. I feel her gaze in my ribcage—warming me from the inside out.
I don't know what it means.
“Actually, I have three other rules...” Leo continues, but I only half hear him, I can’t look away from her. The girl in the window. “Be on time, and I don’t just mean for training. Your shifts at the shop too. Even if I’m asking you to wax boards in the garage or help my wife bring in groceries. My time is valuable, and I’m spending a lot of it on you.”
I nod absently.
Punctuality. Check.
I’m still watching her, because she’s watching me. Her hair drapes over her shoulder as she tilts her head, eyes narrowing as if she’s challenging me to look away first. I can’t, and I don’t know why. It’s fucking infuriating.
“Speaking of my wife—do not disrespect her. Ever. If she asks you for help with something, you do it. If you see her in the garden, you tell her that her flowers are pretty. If she offers you a meal, you eat it. I don’t care how bad it tastes.”
Nice to wife. I can do that.
Her lips tilt at the side before her tongue slips between them, swiping over her fuller bottom lip before they part slightly and her shoulders shake. She rolls her eyes playfully, and I swear to God I can hear her laughing. The sound doesn’t float through the closed window, but my ribcage echoes with it all the same.
“Weston.” The tone in his voice is stern enough to pull my gaze from the window. His head had turned too, looking in the same direction before he faced me again. “My third rule,” he continues, slowly raising one brow at me.
“Your third rule.” My eyes flash to her window again, but the curtains are now closed.
Something pinches the pit of my stomach. An unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling.
“My daughter is home for the summer. I wasn’t expecting her to be.” His voice is low and rough, pulling my focus back to him as Leo Graham looks in my eyes and says, “So, third rule: I need you to stay away from her.”
“Uh—” The word lodges in my throat. I open my mouth wider, attempting to sayunderstood. But it’s just stuck there, refusing to leave my lips. Refusing to comply.
I swallow down my response, only capable of offering a nod.
CHAPTER 7
WILLOW
My mom gifted me an easel for Christmas, but I forgot it when I returned to Berkeley in January. I’m thankful for that now. I left so much behind in that old apartment with Parker, I think I would’ve left this easel too.
My dad called the manager of the building I was living in and bought me out of my portion of our lease. He offered to drive up to Berkeley and recover the rest of my things, but I assumed Parker had already tossed them out by then.
I’ve been meaning to check in with my friend Chelsea to see if she might have intercepted anything after I left. Her boyfriend, Hayden, is Parker’s best friend, so they spent a lot of time at our place. She’s called a few times since I left, and I was intending to call her back once I figured out how to explain my situation to her.
She and Parker have always been close.
Though, I’m more lost about what to say to her now than I was a few weeks ago. Back when I convinced myself this was nothing more than an uncomfortable situation that obliterated my attraction to my boyfriend and made me want to leave him.
It’s so much worse now.
