Thirty-One
Leo
What's wrong with me?
Skye
We spent the first solid week holed up in Leo’s apartment, reconnecting. And it wasn’t just fucking because we had only done it once.
Leo was hot and cold. Distant and close. Talkative and quiet. It was like I was relearning him all over again. Trying to figure him out as I caught on to subtle changes that, when added up, felt huge.
The quiet in my surroundings was hard to adjust to.
Everywhere I turned, I saw nothing but extravagant furniture and fine dining.
Once upon a time, I would have given anything to be part of this.
But now, I looked around Leo’s life and felt nothing but loneliness.
It was evening. I was sitting on the couch he’d fucked me the day I’d gotten here. Leo had taken a call earlier in his office. It was the longest call he’d been on since I’d come here a few days ago. When he came out, he barely looked at me, his mind occupied with thoughts he would not share. He strode around the apartment, buried in his head as he picked up the Thai dinner at the door and began to serve it in the living room in front of me.
It was there I asked him, “What happened to you?”
He looked up at me. He didn’t ask what I meant. He didn’t make an excuse, either. He just stared at me for some time before answering, “I learned to separate myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I was weak before.”
“What made you weak?”
“Emotion.”
I frowned. “That’s what I loved the most about you, Leo. You’re passionate—”
“I let it get in the way.”
I knew this had to do with his father, and I knew I wouldn’t get a single straight answer out of Leo if I pried. He shut me out of it desperately, and as a result, he was now in the middle of juggling that world and being with me.
I studied him as he looked down and slid my plate toward me. I leaned over, searching for his eyes again. “Leo,” I said softly, but he still didn’t look directly at me. “Doing the opposite will be getting in the way ofus.”
This time he looked at me. A flash of emotion washed over him as he replied, “I don’t want to do that. I’m trying, sweetness.”
Sensing the conflict in him, I spread my arms out. “Come here.”
Still on his knees, he slid the table aside and came to me. I wrapped my arms around him as he buried his face into my chest and neck, breathing me in. I ran my fingers through his hair as he wrapped his arms around my waist.
“I’m trying,” he repeated in a whisper. “I swear, Skye…”
My heart hurt for him, at the desperate tone, at the tight hold as he hugged me like I was his lifeline. When he eventually pulled away, he tucked the phone into the drawer of the coffee table, no longer interested in it. Then he turned his sights on me, and I saw it then, his focus returning, his eyes gentling.
I smiled. “There you are.”
He kissed me softly. “I’m here.”
I stroked his cheek, getting dizzy in his blue eyes when I said, “You don’t have to shut me out, Leo. You can tell me things.”
“No—”