Chapter 21
Cori
The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on Bartol’s couch while talking to Melena. The sensor had consoled her while she wept at the loss of nearly everything she owned. Cori had managed to save her most important personal possessions, but she still couldn’t get over how many other things she’d lost forever, including the beautiful kitchen she’d had remodeled after moving into the cabin. It was all gone now. Repairing her truck was one thing, but her home? Even if the insurance covered the cost to rebuild completely, it would take time, and it wouldn’t be the same as before.
It was too much to take in at once, and she couldn’t face it right now.
Rolling onto her back, she noticed she wasn’t on the couch anymore. It was definitely a firm mattress with soft sheets that smelled suspiciously like Bartol, a mixture of sandalwood and spice. Cori opened her eyes and scanned her surroundings. Thick, dark-blue curtains shielded the sunlight, leaving the room dim, and the door was shut.
Pushing a white, down comforter away from her, she reached over and turned on a lamp. This was the first time she’d seen Bartol’s bedroom, and it was nicer than she’d expected. Part of her wouldn’t have been surprised if he slept on a cot with a milk crate for a nightstand. He’d always given her the impression he was a rustic sort of guy and didn’t care for luxuries all that much.
Then Cori remembered that Melena and Lucas had insisted on purchasing quality furniture for Bartol so he would be comfortable in his new home. They’d chosen well. The bedroom set included the four-poster bed she’d slept on, an armoire, a dresser, and two nightstands. They were all stained dark mocha and smelled of fresh pine. Matching wrought iron lamps sat on each of the nightstands with shades the same color as the window curtains. As a final touch, a fake tree sat in the corner.
Even with the room filled with furniture, though, it still had an empty feeling to it. Bartol didn’t have anything personal in there to make it his. At the very least, he should have had a pair of shoes lying on the floor, paintings on the wall, or even some cologne sitting on the dresser.
Cori slid off the bed, noting it sat higher than her own. Her bare feet touched the cool wood floor, and she let out a shuddering breath as she looked down at herself. She still wore the same clothes as the previous night, which reeked of smoke, and she desperately needed a shower. The bed sheets would also need to be washed before they could be used again. How had she ended up in Bartol’s bed anyway? Had he braved touching her so he could move her to his most personal domain? The thought made her smile. Maybe all her efforts were helping him make progress after all.
Padding to the door, Cori opened it and poked her head out. There was a folded blanket and a pillow on the couch but no sign of Bartol. She caught sight of the duffle bag of clothes she’d saved last night sitting outside the bedroom door. That was all the motivation she needed to focus on taking a shower and worrying about the nephilim later. Scooping up the bag, she headed for the bathroom. Inside, she found it empty of any decorations with only a clear shower curtain over the tub and a few bottles of personal hygiene products set neatly in a row. The tile was solid white and the sink freestanding. A prison restroom would have had more character than this, though Bartol’s was no doubt cleaner. It also smelled heavily of bleach.
She stripped off her clothes and hopped into the shower. In her spree to save her things, she hadn’t had time to grab anything from her bathroom. Most of the stuff in there was easier to replace, so it hadn’t been a priority. She had no choice now except to use Bartol’s shampoo and soap, which he must have taken some care with choosing because they matched the scent she always caught on him. It felt a little naughty to be using his stuff without asking him first, but that only made the experience even more thrilling.
After finishing her shower and borrowing a comb from the medicine cabinet to get the tangles out of her hair, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It made her feel marginally better now that she was cleaner, and the smoke smell wasn’t filling her nose every time she breathed.
Cori stared at herself in the mirror, noting the circles under her eyes and the lack of makeup. She looked worn out. Last night, she’d let herself cry because she’d needed a little time to mourn. Today, she had to put her chin up and move forward. Nothing could be gained by curling up in a ball and moaning about how unfair life could be. Cori had long since learned that lesson. Instead, she’d take the day to get herself back together and figure out where to go from here. She would also need to let Asher know she’d have to miss another day of work. Not only would that further hurt her finances, but she’d have to pay him extra for covering her shop so often recently. If Griff’s goal was to make her go broke, he was doing a damn good job of it. She could only pray to God that she and her friends found him and ended this soon.
Picking up her bag, she left the bathroom and found Bartol waiting for her in the living room. He held a steaming cup of coffee in his hand that he offered to her. It was a silly thing, but it meant a lot to her that he’d made it without her asking. He was totally making up for ignoring her the last couple of days after their rather heated kiss that he’d run away from.
She left her things by the bedroom door and took the coffee. “Thanks. I seriously need this.”
“I thought you would.”
Cori gazed around the living room. For the last few months, he’d never let her inside. It felt a little awkward now that she’d more or less forced him to take her in. “I’m sorry for imposing,” she said, unable to meet his gaze. “I’ll figure out somewhere else to go soon.”
“You are not imposing.” Bartol’s voice rolled over her, more soothing than usual. “I told Melena you would be staying here. At the very least, until the danger is over.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I thought you valued your privacy.”
“I do.”
“Then why let me stay here?” she asked, drawing her brows together.
This time he avoided her gaze. “It is the easiest way to watch over you and keep you safe.”
“Even after our kiss?”
Bartol ran a hand through his hair, and responded with heavy regret in his voice, “That was a mistake, but I will not allow it to affect your safety again.”
Cori flinched, not liking the implications. “Then let me go.”
“I wish I could.” His expression turned so intense it practically scorched her. “But I can’t.”
Her jaw dropped. Before she could respond, he strode past her to his bedroom. The door shut with a firm click. It occurred to her then that he hadn’t had a chance to shower or change clothes since last night, either. He’d given up his room and avoided going in there even while she slept.
She took her cup of coffee and headed for the kitchen. Maybe she could make things up to him by preparing them some breakfast. She opened the fridge, finding an almost empty milk carton, a bottle of ketchup, and a couple of slices of cheese. In the cabinets, all she found was canned soup and a mostly empty cereal box. That wasn’t going to work at all if she was going to be staying here for a while.
“Bartol,” she called out. “You and I are going grocery shopping today!”
She thought she heard a loud grunt for a reply.
Cori finished her coffee and poured another cup. While she added sugar and cream, Bartol came out of the bedroom with a stack of neatly folded clothes and went straight to the bathroom. He didn’t glance her way once. After the shower started running, she headed for the bedroom and discovered he’d already pulled the sheets off of the bed. The man was more than a little fastidious. If Cori were in the market for a husband, she’d pick him just to put some spice back into his life.
She took the sheets and carried them to the kitchen where a washer and dryer sat in the corner by the back door. Both the appliances were the most basic versions one could find these days. Lucas and Melena must have picked the set out so that Bartol wouldn’t have too much trouble figuring out how to work them. She got the wash ready to go but didn’t turn it on yet since she didn’t want to mess up the hot water for Bartol’s shower. Once they were ready to leave, she could start it.
After that, she pulled her duffle bag out and organized her things, figuring out what she had left to wear and what would need to be replaced soon. Other than a pair of boots and some running shoes, she had nothing left for her feet. She had managed to grab four pairs of pants, some socks, her entire underwear drawer, and about a dozen shirts. All of it had been shoved into the bag haphazardly and took a few minutes to sort out. Cori had enough to get by for a little while, but she’d have to go shopping at some point and spend more money she couldn’t spare. At least Lucas and Melena had promised they would deal with the insurance company and get the process sped up so she could get her settlement money sooner. They’d even managed to get a police report filled out before leaving last night.
Bartol came out of the shower, hair wet and plastered to his face and head. He’d donned jeans and socks already, but he didn’t have a shirt on yet. Cori’s mouth went dry, and she couldn’t help but stare at the cut abs and chiseled pectorals on blatant display before her. It was enough to make her weep, thinking no woman had touched his body intimately in over a century.
His gaze hardened. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what,” he said, voice clipped.
Cori rose to her feet from where she’d been sorting clothes. “Then put a damn shirt on if you don’t want me to look. I’m only human!”
“It’s my home,” he argued.
She lifted her brows. “You asked me to be here. I swear I won’t even come close to you if you don’t want, but I can’t control my eyes. They have a mind of their own.”
His expression flattened. “Your eyes operate independently of your body?”
“When you’re around they do.”
He clutched the dirty clothes he’d carried out, squeezing them. “There is nothing about me that is worth looking at.”
He was so wrong.
Kerbasi had certainly done a number on Bartol’s ego. Cori needed to pay the guardian a visit sometime soon so she could empty her revolver into his thick skull for being such a horrible person. At least with Kerbasi, she wouldn’t feel guilty about shooting him since he couldn’t die. It would just hurt him a lot.
Cori crossed her arms. “I’ve never seen a more sexy man in my life than you.”
His jaw ticked on the side where the scars were located. “Then you are blind.”
“If you say so.”
“You mentioned you wish to go shopping,” he said, lifting a brow.
Cori decided to let him change the topic. “You are in dire need of food in this house, and unless you want me to keep using your shampoo and soap, I need to buy some for myself.”
“You used my…” he paused, and seemed to gather himself, “soap?”
Cori smiled. “I didn’t have a choice. I rubbed it all over my body, which consequently, was right before you used it.”
He twisted the dirty clothes in his hands further. “Give me a few minutes and then we can go.”
“Okay,” she said brightly. “I’ll get the wash started for your sheets while you do that since, you know, I slept all over those, too.”
Bartol escaped into his bedroom without another word.
Twenty minutes later, they were on the road in her truck. Cori was grateful it had been parked far enough away from the cabin not to get burned, so at least she had one big thing that had survived intact. Bartol sat in the passenger seat utterly still. She figured she’d given him a hard enough time that morning and chose to leave him alone for the moment. Helping him overcome his past was a marathon, not a race. Cori didn’t want to push him so far that he might regress into his hermit state again. She’d feared that enough after their last kiss and swore she’d drop it down a notch with him. But saying was one thing and doing another. Keeping herself in check around him took a lot more effort than she’d expected.
They were nearly to Fairbanks when she decided to take a detour. After what had happened last night, she needed to check on something else even more important than her cabin. It had been on Cori’s mind when she’d fallen asleep on the couch.
“Where are we going?” Bartol asked.
She kept her eyes on the road. “This won’t take long, but it’s something I have to do.”
They reached the gate and proceeded down a long, narrow road.
Bartol gave her a questioning glance. “A cemetery?”
He must have seen the sign when they turned in.
“Yeah,” she said softly.
She parked the truck without another word and got out. He followed her as she made her way across the graveyard to a large, granite headstone engraved with the name “Faith Elizabeth Landry” on it. Cori crouched in front of it and traced the letters as she always did when she came there, which was usually once a month. She was relieved to see Griff hadn’t done anything to disturb their daughter’s grave. With his crazy obsession about hurting her, she hadn’t been sure what he might be capable of under the circumstances.
“Your daughter?” Bartol asked, hovering a few feet away.
Cori blinked back a sheen of tears. “Yes.”
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. She kept her fingertips on the headstone, thinking of Faith and how much she missed her baby girl. How could someone so amazing and precious leave this world before she’d truly had a chance to live in it? How could God let that happen? No matter how much time passed, Cori couldn’t make sense of it.
Bartol moved to kneel next to her. “Tell me about Faith.”
It took a moment for her to speak as the memories flooded her. “She hardly cried as a baby. Other women used to tell me I got it easy with her because she was such a happy child.”
“It sounds like she was wonderful.”
Cori wiped a tear from her cheek. “Sometimes I think God took her from me because I didn’t deserve her.”
“I am no fan of God,” Bartol said, working his jaw, “but I do not believe He had anything to do with her death. That was entirely on your former husband.”
“But I tried to kill Griff for it. How does that make me worthy as a mother?” she asked, despair in her voice.
“I have no answer for that, but I can tell you that until you forgive yourself you won’t be able to move on.” He reached up and grazed her cheek with his knuckle. “You deserve to move on and perhaps have another child someday.”
Cori shook her head. “I don’t think I can go through that again.”
“With the right person, you could.”
Because of the curse on nephilim, Bartol could never be that man.
She looked away. “You’re wrong. There’s no way I can ever trust someone again to make that kind of commitment after what happened with Griff.”
Bartol gave her a reproving look. “Not everyone is like him.”
“I know,” she said, dipping her gaze toward the ground. “But I don’t even trust myself enough to tell the difference. I have a history of picking the wrong guys.”
He slid his arm around her and pulled her close until her head rested on his shoulder. “Do you know you are the only woman who can make me feel better about my own problems?”
Cori choked out a laugh. “My life is usually not this bad.”
“Neither was mine…before.”
They crouched there together, staring at her daughter’s grave for a while in silence. Her life was a wreck but having him at her side made it a little easier. If he could manage to hold her for a few minutes despite his intimacy issues, then maybe there was hope for her as well.