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“Mmkay. Thanks, Ols.”
“Ols?” I chuckled, watching as she rubbed her face with both palms, then gave her cheeks a slap like she could force herself awake. She pulled the coffee canister from the cabinet, but once she returned to the machine, her scowl deepened and she started flinging open drawers.
“Leigh.”Slam. “Leigh?”
“What?” she snapped, before catching herself. Her eyes shut tightly as she exhaled, then softened. “I’m sorry. I’m... anxious. Stressed. It’s fine. You’re fine.” Gentler this time: “What?”
“What are you looking for?”
“Out of filters.”
“Oh,” I said, deflating a little as I glanced at the now-full reservoir. “That’s alright. Get cleaned up, I’ll buy you a sludge cup on the way. My treat.”
“It’s fine,” she muttered, ripping paper towels off the roll and cramming them into a makeshift bowl before pouring the grounds directly on top. All I could think was... bleach. And extra fiber?
“Stop looking at me like that. Why is everyone giving me pity-eyes lately?”
“You just seem a little...” The daggers in her glare had me adjusting course. “...burnt out.”
“Not all of us can be Ollie the jolly billionaire,” she muttered, and something about the bitterness in her voice made my spine straighten. Leighton had never—not once—thrown my money in my face.
“Hey,” I said, stepping in closer, lowering my voice as I met her tired eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry.” She pressed her fingers to her sternum, rubbing lightly over that scar I’d kissed like a prayer only a month ago. When her eyes opened again, they were softer. “It’s not you. Terrible night. Let me wash it off and we’ll start over?”
I wanted to say we didn’t need to start over. That I was here if she needed me. But the little nod she gave me was so Alice-coded it shut me up. And just like that, she disappeared down the hall, and I heard the shower turn on.
Yikes.
What the hell happened at work last night?
I turned for the fridge to find her something warm before dragging her downtown—and stopped short.
Empty.
Like, truly empty. An expired tub of vegan yogurt. Half a bottle of creamer. Peanut butter.
I moved to the pantry. Same story. A few slices of plain sourdough, a couple cans of vegetables, an oversized bag of rice, and another of russet potatoes.
Shit.
I toasted the bread and spread some peanut butter across it before grabbing the honey and cinnamon from her spice rack. Then I sprinted out to the Bentley, snagged a couple bananas from my backseat snack stash, and sliced one up to layer on top. I poured her a cup of coffee and set both on the counter.
Trying to play it cool, I poured my own cup and wandered into the living room.
Which was a mistake.
That damn sectional. The same one where I’d first kissed her. Where I’d stripped her bare. Where I’d...
I was so caught up in the memory that I didn’t even see what I knocked off the armrest. Bending over, I picked up a small stack of envelopes—and froze.
I’m not usually a nosy fucker, but when the top envelope had a red FINAL NOTICE stamp, I tensed.
A credit union. Power bill. Her Visa.
Two of them had red slips inside. Past due.
Confusion buzzed down my spine, followed by something a hell of a lot sharper.