Page 13 of Daddy’s Muse (Bloody Desires #12)

Colby

I wondered if he would come again today.

He’d been showing up almost every day for the past week, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I could remember exactly the way his voice dipped low like we were sharing secrets, the way his eyes stayed on me just a second longer than most people’s did.

I wasn’t sure when it started—probably from the first day, to be honest—but little by little, I found myself looking forward to the possibility of him walking in again.

It made me feel an anxious excitement because I still didn’t understand why he’d want to talk to me, but I loved our time together.

I didn’t understand how someone so interesting was making time to get to know someone as dull as me. He didn’t seem bored with me yet, but I was sure he’d get there soon enough.

I was nothing more than the forgotten child of heroin addicts. I spent the first part of my life moving from one trap house to another, trying my best to stay small, stay unnoticed, and stay alive.

I hadn’t even known my grandparents until one day, a nice lady showed up and told me I would be living with them from now on.

When they’d come up to the hospital to pick me up, they were crying.

My grandmother took one look at me from the doorway of the hospital room and ran to my bedside, gathering me up in her arms and pressing kisses to every inch of my face.

My grandfather joined us with a sad smile and a stuffed raccoon under his arm.

I’d never been held like that before—not like I was something worth holding onto.

Even now, all these years later, I could still remember the smell of my grandmother’s perfume—powdery and soft, like safety and department stores and lace doilies—and the way my grandfather’s hand rested on my shoulder like he was promising not to let go.

They gave me a home, a bed that was mine, and the kind of quiet that felt strange at first because I didn’t have to listen for trouble anymore.

They’d taken in a kid they hadn’t known existed from a daughter who they thought was dead. But they never, ever, acted like I was a burden. They loved me with their whole hearts, and although their finances had been tight, they did everything they could to give me a decent childhood.

And yet, despite all that, despite the care and love they poured into raising me, I’d still grown up determined not to stand out.

I was the kid in the background of every group photo, the one teachers barely remembered when they handed back graded work.

I kept my head down and I stayed out of the way.

It was easier that way.

Which is why Bodin made no sense to me.

The way he’d walk into the diner like he was looking for me specifically. The way he leaned forward over his coffee, as if whatever I said was worth hanging on to. The way his smile shifted when it was just for me.

I tried not to admit it to myself, but I’d started catching my reflection in the stainless steel behind the counter, checking my hair, wondering if my shirt looked okay. I’d never done that for anyone before.

The bell over the door rang, snapping me out of it.

For a split second, my heart jumped—hopeful—before I even looked up.

And then there he was.

There were so many people in this town who were smarter, better-looking, more outgoing. People who could match him in confidence, instead of just smiling awkwardly and hoping they didn’t say something dumb.

But he was here for me.

He spotted me instantly, like he always did, and that easy smile curved across his face, like I was the exact person he’d been hoping to find.

“Hello, Colby,” he said as he slid into his usual booth. His voice had its usual deep, melodic quality to it, making me feel both calm and a little warm in my tummy.

I grabbed a menu out of habit, even though he never needed one. “Hi. Coffee?”

“You know me so well,” he said, leaning an elbow on the table. His eyes tracked me as I poured it, and even though I told myself I was imagining it, it felt like he was studying me.

When I set the cup down in front of him, his fingers brushed mine—not long enough to be an accident, but not long enough to be obvious.

“So,” he said, “did you think some more about what we were talking about yesterday?”

I frowned, trying to remember what we’d spoken about. “About… the reindeer?” He’d told me that his parents were reindeer herders, to which I had asked why on earth he was in West Virginia and not playing with the reindeer.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, although I shouldn’t be surprised that’s the part that stuck out to you. About what you’d do if money weren’t a problem.”

“Oh. That…” I shifted my weight, suddenly wishing I had something to wipe down just so I’d have somewhere to look that wasn’t directly at him.

Couldn’t we just talk about the reindeer instead?

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it.

People like me don’t—” I cut myself off before the words don’t dream like that could escape.

Bodin didn’t look away, his blue-gray eyes boring into me. “People like you?” he prompted, tilting his head slightly in question.

I shrugged, heat creeping up my neck. “It’s just… I don’t really like thinking about stuff like that. I need to focus on getting through the now. Thinking about… more feels like tempting fate, you know?”

He stirred his coffee slowly, still watching me. “Maybe fate needs tempting.” The way he said it—like he really believed that—made something twist in my chest.

I laughed softly, trying to brush it off. “And what about you? If money wasn’t a problem?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just smiled faintly, like the answer was too complicated to give me right now. “Maybe I’ll tell you that someday.”

And then he took a sip of coffee, like we hadn’t just stepped into some quiet place between us that I didn’t know how to name.

As the conversation drifted to lighter things, I couldn’t stop thinking about that “ maybe I’ll tell you someday .”

It stuck to me like static, pulling at my thoughts even when I tried to let it go.

I couldn’t be too upset because he was only doing what I’d been doing—holding back.

For every little piece of himself he gave me, there was something else he kept behind his eyes.

It was as if he were letting me peek through a half-open door, but never inviting me inside.

I didn’t know if it was because he didn’t trust me yet, or because there were things about him I wasn’t supposed to see, or if he was waiting for me to open up first.

And maybe I shouldn’t have cared. I barely knew him. A normal person probably would’ve been grateful for the attention and left it at that. But the more time we spent together, the more I wanted to know everything .

When he left that afternoon, brushing his knuckles across the back of my hand on the way out, I stood there for a moment after the bell above the door went silent. Watching him walk away felt like letting go of something I wasn’t ready to lose.

I didn’t know what we were. I didn’t even know what he wanted from me. But I knew I wanted him to keep coming back.

* * *

Two days later, I was leaving the library with my backpack slung over one shoulder, my head still full of the dense textbook chapters I’d been forcing myself through.

The sun was starting to set, warm light spilling over the campus green and catching in the leaves overhead.

I was half-distracted, already thinking about getting cozy in bed.

But then I saw him.

Bodin.

He was leaning against a lamppost a few yards ahead, head tilted like he was listening to something in the distance.

He wasn’t looking at me—at first—but there was no mistaking that easy posture, his long blonde hair—loose this evening—the dark coat, and the way he seemed completely comfortable anywhere, like he knew no one would dare question him.

His appearance temporarily distracted me, but then I remembered that he’d told me last week that he wasn’t a grad student or faculty member.

So why was he here?

A strange, unsettled feeling twisted in my stomach. It wasn’t like seeing him was bad—if anything, my pulse had leapt in a way I didn’t want to think about—but it did feel out of place, like spotting a wolf on a city street.

His gaze shifted to me like he’d sensed my approach, smiling at my presence.

I stood there, frozen halfway between walking toward him and pretending I hadn’t seen him at all. When I finally started moving, he pushed off the lamppost and met me halfway.

“Colby,” he greeted, my name warm on his tongue like he’d been waiting for me. “What a coincidence.”

Coincidence.

I wasn’t sure I believed that.

And yet, what else was there to believe? He couldn’t have been waiting for me, couldn’t have known that I’d take this path at this specific time.

“Yeah… coincidence,” I echoed, my voice coming out thinner than I wanted. I shook off my unease, letting out a deep breath and shooting him a smile.

Bodin’s eyes stayed on me like he was reading between the lines of my face. “You look tired,” he said, not as an observation but almost like it was a fact he could feel. “Long day?”

“Ugh, yeah,” I grumbled, shifting my backpack strap higher. “Library’s been my second home recently.”

He hummed, low and almost approving. I stilled as he reached a hand out to tuck one of my wayward curls behind my ear.

This man would be the death of me , I thought.

“Diligent. I like that. Be careful not to wear yourself out too much, though. Can’t have you getting sick.” His gaze flicked toward the path I’d just come from, as if measuring something. “I was just… passing through.”

Passing through… People didn’t just pass through the residential part of campus unless they belonged here.