Chapter 10
Hand resting on the doorknob, Xander parked his weight on one hip. An impatient sigh crept through his chest as Charlie and Mocha shared their goodbyes beside the front hallway stairs.
“There.” Mocha tapped his cell and deposited his phone in his over-sized bling-ified purse. “I just texted you my private number. Call any time.”
“Cool, thanks.” Charlie handed off his wool coat, then picked up the platter of leftover food she’d topped with a dome of tinfoil and balanced on the banister newel like a shrunken UFO. “Maybe we can do lunch at some point this next week.”
“Sounds great.” Smiling, Mocha shrugged his coat onto his shoulders, flipped his long weave out from under the fur collar and pulled a set of wadded, leather gloves from his pocket. “Let me know what day works for you, and I’m in.”
Good Christ Almighty. Xander dragged his palm down his face. Being polite was one thing, but at this rate he was apt to go the way of the dinosaur and fossilize right here in the front hall. Next thing he knew, Charlie was likely to suggest loaning Mocha a set of PJs so they could swap out this send-off for a slumber party.
As it was, she’d already kept the guy well over an hour past everyone else. Chatting Mocha up on the couch, insisting he get a complete tour of the house and asking after which snacks he liked best off the buffet.
Topped by how she’d repeatedly ignored Xander’s soft pitches they call it a night and, somehow, he’d been backed into the middle of a Saturday Night Live skit of The Guest Who Wouldn’t Leave.
“Well, thanks for coming. And here, this is for you.” Charlie waited for Mocha to finish doing up his buttons before offering him whatever she’d stacked under the foil.
The aluminum rattled around the plate, and Xander frowned over the way her hands trembled as she cinched it back in place.
Now what was that about? Narrowing his gaze, he ran his tongue along the front of his teeth. The entire day she’d been off, but that was no big secret. And sure, she’d done an excellent job of faking it ever since they’d rejoined the wake, even if every time he’d met her eyes, she’d quickly looked away. Or God forbid, he get too close. Ask her what was wrong. The few times he’d tried, she’d panicked like he’d trapped her in a corner, and then skirted around him so damn fast she’d left skid marks on the floor.
But he hadn’t noticed her shaking until now.
So what was the problem? What had he done or not done to make her upse—?
His teeth met with enough force, the clack echoed like the snap of a tendon in his head.
Dammit. Way to go, Eden. Here, he’d taken her advice…or at least he’d tried to convince Charlie he wasn’t about to give up on her, and the only thing he’d accomplished was to push her farther away.
“How fabulous.” Hefting the snacks in one arm, Mocha snuggled the plate between the crook of his elbow and his hip. “Killing me softly with toast points and cream cheese is an awesome way to go.”
An anemic snort erupted from Charlie’s throat, and Xander zeroed in on the tight smirk vying to find the right angle on her face.
Yep, there it was again. The laugh that wasn’t really a laugh at all. The uncomfortable smile that came off phonier than a content spoof some newbie hacker had slapped up on a fraudulent website.
A muscle spasmed along his jaw, and he mentally tossed his hands in the air.
Eden’s fiancé had been right. Every woman in the Dirty Deeds franchise should come packaged with operating instructions printed in six different languages.
“Okay, bring it in.” Waving her forward, Mocha held his empty arm to the side. “Time for me to hit the road. Any longer, and Mr. Tall, Blond and Deadly over there is gonna wear through the enamel on his teeth.”
Charlie sputtered a laugh as Mocha rocked her side to side, and Xander took the cue to twist the knob and swing open the door. Mocha would get no argument from him. Xander needed Charlie all to himself, if for no other reason than to get them back to square one. The last thing he wanted was her skitzing out over the thought of being alone with him. As long as they got on the same page, he was happy to take things at whatever pace she wanted.
“I’ll call you later, sweet cheeks.” Mocha strolled toward Xander, his bank of perfume scenting the air with a hint of chocolate just like his name. “You two take care.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he patted Xander’s cheek. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Uh-huh. Way to bring on about a billion different scenarios, each one starring Charlie, and on all of which Xander would’ve gladly blown his entire inheritance to make a part of his reality. “Thanks for that.”
“My pleasure.” Twiddling his fingers, Mocha smiled and sashayed into the rainy night.
A hollow thump echoed through the front hall as Xander closed the door. The snick of the deadbolt, four beeps as he set the alarm, and he pushed aside the narrow curtain strung along the side pane to check the street.
The hint of a shadow fluttered in his peripheral vision and his grip tightened on the knob.
Shit. Across the street. Behind the trunk of a broad Elm.
Mocha’s sedan roared to life. The headlights flicked on, and Xander snagged the opportunity to scan the opposite sidewalk.
Nothing. He jiggled the handle to double-check the lock. Other than the eerie shift and sway of the tree’s bare branches in the wind.
Not that he was taking any chances. First thing in the morning, he was installing a full upgrade to the security cameras hidden around the property. And if he had to, he’d forgo another night’s sleep up until then.
Flicking off the front porch light, he turned just as Charlie disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen, not so much as a how’s it going or even a kiss my sweet ass before leaving.
Muttering a curse, Xander followed behind, checking the living room and up the front hallway stairs to make sure everything was secure.
A straight-arm to the door, and he winced as the stadium glare of every recessed light bounced off the white tile countertops and stainless-steel appliances.
Damn, woman. What, was she prepping the place for surgery?
He blinked, waiting for his pupils to adjust, then jerked to attention as Charlie rifled the refrigerator, her curvy ass tipped in the air, black fringe swinging along the backs of her thighs, her skin-tight dress casting the perfect silhouette against the bulb.
Jesus. He closed his eyes against the driving urge to march across the room and lean over her. His cock stretched and flexed along his thigh. To spoon her with his body and take a slow deliberate grind along every inch of her delicious backside.
“I need cake.” Bottles clinked, and he lifted his lids as she spun around, kicking the door shut with her foot. A sharp glance his way, and she smacked a Tupperware container onto the butcher block island. “You want some?”
Even the thought of her full lips covered in a layer of sugary frosting made the tightness in his dick heat to a sweat-inducing throb. “I could be talked into sharing a piece.”
She scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “No way.” Peeling the lid off with one hand, she opened a drawer and rummaged around inside with the other. “Have you tasted this cake? I’m not sharing with anyone.”
Right. Then again, considering the numerous times they’d gone without, he couldn’t blame her for being a tad territorial when it came to dessert.
She slid the loaded fork past her lips and his mouth watered as the tip of her tongue darted out to lick a glob of frosting off the tines. Shit, he wanted to chase that gooey morsel down her throat. His windpipe clicked as he forced a swallow. Swirl and dip inside until her intoxicating flavor coated his tongue and pacified the way everything about her had escalated into a full-on obsession.
Jamming his hands in his pockets, he rounded the island and strolled toward the sink. Problem was, even though she seemed to enjoy kissing him, the end result hadn’t really worked out in his favor. And salivating like a dog while he’d been classified as public enemy number one was bound to freak her out worse than if he dropped to his knees and begged her to end the hell he was living.
Maybe it was time he took a different tack. Locate a backdoor in her firewalls so he could bypass her security systems, and find out exactly where she thought the two of them stood.
Hey, great idea. And the real ball-twister was he knew just where to start.
Too bad the subject matter was guaranteed to douse any hope about where this night might be headed.
Pivoting toward the island, he rested his ass against the sink. Up until today, he’d never owned a house—partial or otherwise—and whether or not he planned on keeping it, he wasn’t about to make that decision until Charlie weighed in with her two cents.
Over everything else, his highest priority was making sure she was comfortable. With him. He couldn’t do that unless she heard the whole story. And besides. If ever he got lucky enough to show her how good things could be between them, telling her about Malcolm after they’d had sex would only come off like he’d purposely held back information. Vital information she had every right to know.
He wasn’t doing that to her. Not after ten years of waiting to reenter her life. He’d promised her honesty moving forward, and no matter how mood-stripping the words, that’s exactly what he intended to give. At the very least, maybe she’d finally realize her opinion counted for just about everything, and she’d get it through her head that, regardless of where they ended up, he planned on sticking the landing.
“So, Chuck.” He glanced toward the corners of the kitchen. “You believe in ghosts?”
She paused with a hunk of cake halfway to her mouth. “Damn straight, I do.” A small wrinkle formed between her brows. “Why? You recently see one?”
“No, no.” Rolling his lips to hide a smirk, he studied his feet. It was downright goofy to him how some people bought into the whole paranormal scene. He’d never found proof the afterlife existed, and with all the hardships he’d lived through, the disturbing shit he’d seen, he knew death wasn’t necessary to create devils and demons. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d heard what happened.” He bumped his chin to indicate the room. “And if you had any thoughts on whether or not I should keep the house.”
“Oh, God.” Horror filled her gaze, and her hand fell to the island. The cake toppled off the fork and rolled to a stop. “What are you talking about?”
Dammit, he hated that panic on her face. Would’ve been happier had she stormed up to him and cracked him across the chin with a balled fist. Pushing up from the sink, he scooped the cake off the island and brought it back to her mouth.
A full three seconds passed as she searched his eyes, and his stomach sank as she took a step back. “I’m not hungry anymore.” Crossing her arms, she set her jaw, the spark of anger in those mesmerizing blue orbs cutting him deeper than if she’d come at him wielding the cleaver stuck to the magnetic strip above the stove. “Spill it, Dade. What aren’t you telling me?”
Why? Why did it always have to be him?
He raked his hand through his hair, then glanced around for somewhere to ditch the cake before finally tossing it in the sink. The only thing he’d ever wanted was to make her life better, and yet here he stood again, about to drop a bomb that could change everything. Reboot her hard drive with a whole backlog of sickening memories they’d spent a lifetime trying to forget.
“Malcolm.” Dropping his hand, he shoved the words past the hard knot crowding his throat. “He was killed here, Chuck. In Eden’s old bedroom. His body wasn’t here, but she was the one who discovered the scene.”
“Holy shit.” Charlie slapped her palm to her chest. Moved it to her forehead. Then back it went to her chest as if she wasn’t quite sure where it belonged. “She never said a word to me. Not one word.” Her heel tapped the tile as she stepped forward. “Was she okay? I can’t imagine. Geez, I wish I’d known. Maybe I could’ve done something to help.”
The pressure built, threatening to cut off his airway, and he fisted his fingers to shore up the desperate need he always had to pull her into his arms.
In all his days on Earth, he’d never imagined the candle he held for Charlie could flame any hotter. But in that moment, when her first thought was not for herself but for Eden, a red-hot glow burned through his chest as if she’d somehow pumped the chambers of his heart with an industrial grade accelerant.
A soft tick came from the thermostat near the door. A beat later, the familiar hum of the boiler vibrated under his feet.
Xander snapped his chin up and locked onto Charlie. And while he was at it, maybe he should rethink his stance on paranormal activity. That timing was plain weird.
She hitched a breath, held it trapped behind her compressed lips. Heat blew up from the register, and he stayed hot on her heels as she took off for the side door to Malcolm’s office.
Staring down at the bronze grate to the left of the walnut desk, Xander followed her lead, taking the spot opposite her the same as the first day they’d arrived. Elbows bent, palms down, he splayed his fingers at waist level and braced against the memories as a steady stream of warm air gusted past his face.
“God.” A quiet laugh murmured in her throat as she flipped her hands over and back. “Do you remember how excited we were?”
How could he forget? It’d been the first time they’d had heat without the ripe stench of a tainted fire in over a year. “I remember thinking this was what Christmas morning must be like.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “We must’ve stood here for hours.”
“And every time the heat kicked on we would shift back and forth until the bottoms of our sneakers got soft.” He shrugged. “Not that they were very thick to begin with.”
“Remember how we kept bumping the temp higher and higher?” A devious sparkle skipped through her gaze. “Dead of January and Malcolm would get so pissed we were all walking around in shorts and t-shirts.”
And red-faced, sweat beading at his short sideburns, bowtie wilted and hanging out of whack. Xander grinned. “So he hired some dude to install those stupid plastic covers on all the controls.”
“And I picked every single lock.”
A deep chuckle rolled up from the pit of his stomach as Charlie tossed her head back, and Xander swore her full-throated laugh was the best damn sound to ever hit his ears.
In every way possible, the woman owned him. Down to each screwed-up, defective kick of his heart. Seeing her like this… Uninhibited. Free and clear of the stress she’d been carrying all day brought his entire world back into focus.
She lowered her chin, her smile lingering over what he could only guess was the image of them as kids, pulling one prank after the next at Malcolm’s expense. “It’s no wonder the man drank.” She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed and a tempting shine of moisture along her bottom lip. “With the two of us running around, I’m surprised he didn’t have himself committed.”
Playing a hunch, Xander eased his hands forward, then slowly exhaled as she threaded her fingers through his. There she was. The girl he remembered. The one who’d always had him so jammed up he couldn’t think straight. Who still had him ready to do whatever she wanted at the snap of her fingers.
Tugging her onto the grate, he stepped in, meeting her halfway. He released her hand and gathered a fistful of the blond silk trailing past her shoulders, twining her hair around his knuckles and closing the distance to her lips until she’d tipped her head back. “Jesus, woman. Do you have any idea how impossibly beautiful you are?”
Just like that, the humor vanished from her eyes, and she twisted out of his grasp.
“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.” The smooth texture of her hair slipped through his fingers as she started for the bay windows, and by the time his brain caught up, he was holding nothing but a column of heated air. “I don’t think it’s funny.”
Funny? He jerked his head back as she rounded Malcolm’s desk. Had the woman actually said funny?
He glanced between her and the rain-spattered panes, every nerve-ending tingling, tension building in his neck. No.
Storming toward the drapes, he yanked the cord and the sides clattered across the track, overlapping as they swung to a stop. For Christ’s sake, the woman shouldn’t be standing in full view of anyone who might have it in their head to be casing the property.
Pivoting to face her, he aimed a hard finger at the ground. “I wasn’t joking, Charlie.” Was she trying to drive him crazy? A non-stop body like hers, that generous heart and self-sacrificing nature, and she couldn’t have been more perfect had he drawn up a list of qualities based on his most erotic sexual fantasies. Hell, even her fresh, fruity scent had permanently imprinted his fly on his dick.
“I don’t like being lied to, Xander.” Her chest lifted and fell on a tired sigh. “Honestly, it’s insulting, and makes me feel like you think I’m stupid.”
What in the sweet, holy— Giving her a compliment equaled stupid? Since when?
Studying her out of the corner of his eye, he tried to come up with any clue to how their wires could’ve gotten so crossed. Any time or place he might’ve fucked up and made her think she was anything less than his ideal.
Nothing. The data stream in his head cranked out nothing but a flat, blank screen.
The sarcastic jabs she’d sent in his direction, though. Those sure filtered through the ol’ gray matter loud and clear. And so did the few times he’d spotted her insecurities peeking past her tough outer shell.
Awareness jabbed him between the eyes, and he slowly lifted his chin. The heat kicked off and, with it, the pieces finally tumbled into place.
He’d been wrong. And so had Eden.
The worry in Charlie’s eyes? The vulnerability and constant hedging whenever he got too close? They didn’t have anything to do with him. And they sure as shit didn’t have anything to do with the truth.
“I meant what I said.” Stepping close, he ran his palm down her arm, up again to the ball of her shoulder. Each of them had a past. Some form of abuse they’d escaped in exchange for doing whatever they could to survive on the streets. As kids, Charlie had never opened up about hers, and he’d been too blown away by her to ever break the unspoken don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy between them.
But that hadn’t stopped him from wondering. And her silence hadn’t made him forget that, whatever she’d been running from, it had been bad enough she’d thought herself better off alone. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous, and I’m telling you right now, I’m fully prepared to kick the shit of anyone who says different.”
“I said stop it!” She spun on him so fast she tipped off-kilter, her hand scrambling for a hold on the back of Malcolm’s chair. “I know what I am, Xander, and up until you landed on my doorstep, I was fine with it. I was covered. But you acting like I’m something else doesn’t make it go away. So just do us both a favor and quit pretending. Stop looking at me as if I’m anything more than an overweight thief without a pot to piss in.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth as if the words had shocked even her, and rage drilled his skull as everything went red.
Kill. That same unnamed force clawed at his gut, snarling and snapping. He was going to kill the fucker who’d pumped her full of that garbage. Whoever they were, they’d done a fine job of messing with her head.
Securing her chin between his forefinger and thumb, he lifted until she looked him dead in the eye. “I need two words from you, Charlie. A first and last name.”
Her laughter started slow, filled with defeat, and couldn’t have been more off from the effortless laugh she’d given him a few seconds ago had the world been flipped on its head. “You think you can fix this by pulling some stupid revenge scheme?”
She withdrew to the far corner of Malcolm’s desk. Tears filled her eyes, and a violent pressure expanded in his chest, coiling behind his breastbone and prepping to tear down every wall in his way.
“I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re too late. The asshole my mother married drank himself to death two years ago. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because his memory lives on.” She tapped her temple. “In here. Every degrading insult, every broken bone and fat lip, they’re all right where he left them. And no matter how many pretty words you toss at me, nothing is going to make them go away.
“God, don’t you get it?” She opened her arms to the sides and he lowered his chin, fingers clenching and releasing, teeth grinding hard enough to chew glass. “Can’t you see? I care about you, Xander. More than you know. But, goddamn it, I’m not your problem to fix.”
“Enough!” The order flew out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop it, and he closed his eyes to hide the way she flinched.
No. This wasn’t happening. Somehow, he had to make her see. And yelling at her like a raving lunatic wasn’t the answer.
Christ, he wanted to destroy something. Propping his hands on his hips, he rolled his face toward the ceiling and pulled several deep breaths to get his temper under control. Grab the son of a bitch by the neck, and perform a post-death lynching all over again.
In no way, shape or form was Charlie a problem. And there wasn’t a single thing about her that needed to be fixed. Not to him, and definitely not for him as if she’d fallen short of some fucked-up standard beaten into her by her drunken prick of a stepdad.
But she’d certainly hit the mark about one thing. Hell, in the past five seconds, she’d proven him wrong not just once, but twice.
Ghosts did exist.
He refocused on her. Eased another calming breath into his chest and slowly exhaled. All he had to do was look into her tear-stained eyes to see how badly she was haunted.
And she was also completely solid on realizing she had to exorcise those hurts on her own. However long she planned to torture herself, the choice was hers and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.
But that’s where their agreement ended, because she didn’t control his thoughts on the matter, and he as sure as shit wasn’t leaving this room without getting her started in the right direction.
One long stride forward, and he bent at the waist, scooped her thighs together and stood with her hanging off his shoulder. Her strangled squawk muffled the slap of her palms on his back as he pivoted and crossed the room.
“Xander, what are you doing?” She kicked and wriggled. One of her shoes went airborne, and he dodged his head left as it soared past his ear and landed with a thump on Malcolm’s desk.
“I’m carrying you to the bathroom.” Now that he knew what he was up against, time for them to get a few things straight. He wasn’t about to let her believe he drank the same Kool-Aid some worthless jackass had fed her as a kid.
“Put me down. Right now.” Her other heel slipped off, and her gasp hit his ears as he side-stepped right. “Whoa. You’re gonna drop me.”
He swatted her ass. “Then stop squirming.”
She had an issue with pretty words? Then the woman had better strap in tight. He neared the bathroom door and tossed it open. Whether or not she listened, no matter how many years it took or if he had to repeat himself over and over, he was gonna fight. For her. And while he had the chance, he was gonna make damn sure she knew what she was missing.
Flexing his knees, he lowered her to her feet, grabbed her shoulders and spun her to face the antique mirror above the sink.
“Okay, this is dumb.” She sighed and rolled her eyes, refusing to meet her reflection. “I already know what I look like, Xander.”
“Not to me, you don’t.” Nudging her feet apart, he stepped in behind her, and her breath caught as he pinned her between his hips and the edge of the marble-topped vanity.
That’s right, beautiful. They were doing things his way for a change. “Now eyes forward and zip it until I’m done talking.”
Gathering her hair, he swept it to the side, exposing the soft stretch of skin under her ear that always threatened the limits of his control. She tensed as he snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her back against his chest, but it didn’t matter. Unless she outright told him to stop, he was done dancing around the tension that had been building between them.
“I have wanted you for over ten damn years.” The velvety texture of her skin coasted past his lips as he swept a kiss down her throat. Goosebumps erupted against the tip of his tongue as she shivered, and that small tell was more than enough for him.
Running his splayed fingers up her ribcage, he explored every inch until the heavy underside of her breast met his palm.
Jesus, she was soft. He curled his fingers around that giving mound of flesh and tested the weight, breathing a moan into her ear as she trembled beneath him. “And no amount of time or money or lies told to you by some abusive asshole is ever gonna change that.”
His cock pulsed and flexed against her ass, and she smacked her hands to either side of the sink. The slight angle drove her deeper against him, and he rolled his hips as a bead of sweat formed and trickled down his back.
Good. Lips feathering the line of hair behind her ear, he locked onto the image of them in the mirror. The awareness glittering in her eyes. The thready pulse point in her throat. “You feel that? That’s how hard I get every time you step into the room.”
He exhaled into her ear, nipping the lobe, ran his thumb over the full arc of her breast and then muttered a curse as the nipple tightened and beaded. “Make no mistake, Chuck. The second that woman in the mirror gives me the green light, I’m comin’ at her like a train on rails.”
Her lashes fluttered, lips parted, and his low chuckle warmed her skin as he tasted the crest of her shoulder.
Easing her forward with his chest, he reached down and clasped her inner thigh. Her breathing increased as he straightened. The fringe of her dress split over his wrist. Heat tightened the nerves at the base of his spine as he swept his fingers past the lacy edge of her thigh high stocking to the slippery strip of silk between her legs.
Fuck, she was soaked. His cock jerked, and he drove against her from behind, taking a slow, penetrating ride along the seam of her ass. She panted, shifting her hips as he stroked the tender crease between her sex and her thigh. “But the truth is, as desperate as she was to run away, the woman you see never really left that house.”
Curling his fingers under the elastic, he yanked the material aside. Her spine bowed, head falling back to his shoulder as he brushed a slow circle over the hard nub jutting from her folds. “You’re the only one who can unlock the door.”
He slid his middle finger deep, dipped and swayed as she writhed against the heel of his hand. Teasing her entrance with short, quick strokes, he tapped and rubbed with his thumb.
His balls hitched as her hips took up the rhythm. Blood pounded in his ears as the head of his cock sank and nestled between her spread legs. “I’m begging you. For the sweet love of Christ, let her out.”
One of her hands left the sink and clamped around the back of his neck. The other seized his wrist, forcing him deeper as she wriggled along his length. Bending his knees, he thrust up again and again, meeting her each time she rammed against him.
A whimper caught in her throat. He thrummed faster and she convulsed in his arms, going rigid along his chest. Shivers wracked her body as her warm cream doused his palm. Her hand slipped from his neck as she pitched forward, chest heaving, her arms braced on the sink.
Shit, she was incredible. He circled that pulsing nub with his thumb and she gasped, her muscles grasping and squeezing his finger. But he’d always suspected she’d be just as giving in her orgasms as she was in every other aspect of her life.
Coasting his palm up her back, he leaned over her and brought his lips to ear. Filled his lungs and then hesitated.
Fuck it.
Slowly exhaling, he uttered the three words he’d never said to another living soul. “I love you, Charlie. I’ve always been in love with you and I always will be.”
She snapped her head up and he met her gaze in the mirror.
“Don’t tell me what’s beautiful and what’s not.” Pushing up from the vanity, he pulled his hand from between her legs. “We’ve both witnessed enough ugliness to spot the difference and, right now, the only one standing in the way is you.”
Pain filled her eyes, maybe a hint of anger, and she spun to face him as he backed toward the door. “And don’t think for one second I expect anything will go away. The past will always be there, waiting for you. But, dammit, so will I.”
Some of the sadness leaked from her eyes. Replaced by hope. The jamb bumped his shoulder, and he stopped. “And don’t come to me unless you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere, but if and when you give me the go-ahead I can’t promise I’ll be gentle. Ten years is a long time for any man to wait.”
Not that the gap was Charlie’s fault. Guilt had kept him away. The stupid, fucking lies he’d fed himself that he’d be smarter to wait until he had the wealth and resources to take care of her the way she deserved.
But this moment wasn’t about easing his conscience.
This was about doing what was best for her.
Her focus flicked to the rock-hard boner tenting the front of his slacks, but he didn’t do a damn thing to hide it. Hell, if that didn’t convince her how he felt, nothing would.
For now, he’d done all he could. Said everything that mattered.
The next move was hers.
“I’ll be in my old room if you need me.” Pivoting for the doorway, he left.