She looked at it and laughed. “That won’t cover half of me.”
“Think I don’t know that? You washed”—he snapped it open, wicked intent in his eyes—“that means it’s my turn to dry.”
He was thorough, each pass of the cloth slow and deliberate, over her shoulders, her throat, the curve of her waist, the inside of her wrist, and she understood, by the time he reached her collarbone, that this was not entirely about the water. Her pulse, which had been settling, ramped up again.
The dishes and the water-soaked floor were forgotten. He dropped the towel, gathered her up, and carried her back to bed.
But he made no promises afterward. Never talked about later. Never tried to define what this was becoming. That part remained untouched between them, sitting quietly beneath everything else.
Chapter 25
By the end of the week, Julia had worn grooves into Leland’s hardwood floors. Not physically. Emotionally.
She drifted restlessly from room to room while Leland worked downstairs, trying and failing to convince herself she wasn’t slowly unraveling inside the prison his house had become.
The second floor had become her favorite place to hide from the monotony. Huge east-facing windows overlooked the water through a carefully maintained stand of palms, sunshine turning the ocean silver beyond them in the afternoon. She curled into the rattan swing chair near the windows and FaceTimed Cari—one of her few remaining connections with the outside world.
Her friend answered immediately from what looked like the kitchen at Devil’s Pointe.
“You look better,” Cari announced.
She snorted softly. “I’m going stir-crazy.”
“I figured. Good thing I called.”
Julia hesitated. “Um… Didn’t I call you?”
“Details.” Cari lowered her voice slightly. “You know I did some digging.”
Julia immediately felt guilty. “I don’t like this.”
“I know,” she said. “I really shouldn’t have. But you needed context. Especially if he won’t give it to you.” Her expression softened. “What I learned explains a lot.”
Julia’s gaze dropped to her hands, white-knuckled around each other, before giving a reluctant nod.
Cari exhaled slowly. “There was a fire when Leland was nine.”
She went still. “What?”
“House fire. Middle of the night.” Cari paused. “His father got him out through a bedroom window and went back in after his mother.”
Julia’s chest tightened, not breathing as she waited for the rest.
“They never made it out.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God…”
All she could picture was a little boy standing outside in the dark, watching his entire world burn down around him. Nine years old. Alone.
“Oh, Leland…” she whispered.
Cari gave her a moment before continuing. “That’s not all.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. Afterward, he went to live with his grandparents. They were good people, supportive, but they had little money.”
Julia listened silently.
