Page 22 of Guarded Knight

Despite the unpacked boxes, a few candles, a lava lamp, and the smell of good food make it feel lived-in. It’s not a big apartment, but the windows are large and luxurious, and the layout isn’t suffocating since it’s open plan.

A playlist hums a fitting, soft girl anthem in the background, probably Taylor Swift or something.

Lara’s at the stove, ladling tomato soup into mismatched bowls. She turns slightly when I enter, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s on the stiff side, which tells me she doesn’t want me here. Then again, I count three bowls.

“Please.” Freya pulls out one of the four chairs at the table. “Sit.”

But I don’t. I’m a gentleman and not here to bulldoze into Lara’s life. I won’t stay if she doesn’t want me here.

But to my surprise, she extends an invitation.

“You’re welcome to stay,” Lara deadpans, back still to me. “Since you’re lurking anyway.”

“It’s not lurking,” Freya says brightly. “It’s watching over. Very noble.”

I glance Freya’s way. She’s practically starry-eyed.

This would all be easier if Lara looked at me like that.

No, it wouldn’t, because Lara is leaving when this is done and you are staying. That’s your assignment.

I put my backpack down and sit in the chair.

Lara finishes plating and sets a grilled cheese on each dish with surgical precision and a quiet, deliberate presence as if nothing else exists. Fully aware. Fully appreciative of every second.

Like only someone told they have thirty years max on this earth, or a Buddhist monk, can achieve.

I remember once, at a picnic back when she was about ten, everyone was swatting at flies and whining about the heat. But not Lara. She watched the flies when they landed. Studied the way they rubbed their legs together, and said she thought it looked like they were excited for something big.

She wasn’t bothered by flies. She was fascinated and thought they were there to have fun, too.

That was Lara. She let the world in. She let it move her. She makes light where most people would let themselves rot in the dark.

Maybe that’s why people swarm to her. Why the wrong men cling too hard, say too much, want her goodness like it’s theirs to consume.

It’s also why I haven’t been able to push her out of my heart despite knowing for a fact I’m the dark cloud on her parade. Even if I am getting better, and I have to believe it, I still haven’t proven shit about my ability to do it when I’m not running.

I’d like to think I’m through that now, but belief and proof aren’t the same thing.

No matter how my chest aches to touch her, to have bent down a few more inches and kiss her in the alley earlier, you don’t ask a woman like Lara, with God knows how much time left, for a second chance. Even if Xander told me she could have another twenty years with these meds, or more, she deserves every one of them to be pure joy.

I wouldn’t say joy is my MO at the moment.

But watching her primp that damn grilled cheese, watching the way her ass fills out those jeans… I’m still just a man, and it’s not the soup I’m hungry for.

Lara saunters over with two plates in her hands. “It’s not much for a lug like you, but at least it’s hot…”

Her words trail off when her gaze hits the backpack at my feet.

She doesn’t say anything but puffs out a humorless laugh. “Fan-frickin-tastic. Another roommate?”

I never asked to stay. But the fact she assumes I am? That’s a crack in the wall she’s built, and I’ll take it. Not for my comfort, but because there’s less room for error on her couch.

Freya ignores Lara’s comment and sets to clearing off a small table. It’s cluttered with notebooks and an IKEA shelf manual Lara will probably leave unread for a week. She’s not one for spending a lot of time on the boring stuff and is a class-A procrastinator. Though I know she smashes it at work.

I follow her on a professional network, and the woman has raised millions for good causes.

Lara and Freya bring over the rest of the food, and I have to admit, I’m happy for something warm. The winter chills are setting in now that it’s nearly November, and nights in the car remind me far too much of being deployed.