Leave a Mark (30 page)

“Dear Lord,” Mamaw Gigi began, “thank you for this day and this meal. Thank you for every hand that toiled so that we could enjoy it together. Thank you for the guest at our table and the smile he brings to my granddaughter’s face—”

“Oh, jeez,” Wren whispered beside him.

“Shh,” he scolded.

“Sometimes your greatest blessings lie where we least expect them,” Mamaw Gigi continued. “And it’s our job just to open our arms and be grateful…”

Lee opened his eyes and found Wren staring back at him. It lasted just an instant, but Lee knew then he was staring into the eyes of someone who loved him. The welcome in her look, the pure, sacred joy was for him alone. And he saw it before she slammed her eyes shut, before her fear had its say. And he closed his eyes gently, concentrating on listening to Mamaw Gigi and fighting the urge to pull Wren’s lips to his.

“…even be grateful when we have lost those dear to us and suffered so much. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” Wren and Lee said together.

THE MEAL WAS
simple and comforting and fantastic. He ate two steaks and three helpings of peas and potatoes. And he might have eaten more, but Mamaw Gigi produced a plate of brownies and a glass of milk, and Lee thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

After dessert, he insisted on helping to clean up the kitchen, and Mamaw Gigi eventually allowed him. The evening had begun awkwardly, but by the middle of dinner, he felt at home, and he’d been able to see Wren in a new light. She was still sassy — even to her grandmother — but she was also clearly devoted.

Over the course of the evening, Wren and Mamaw Gigi planned a trip to the grocery store, one to the hairdresser’s, and one to the cardiologist all in the same week. Mamaw Gigi didn’t seem frail or infirm in any way, but she didn’t drive. Wren, it seemed, did most of the driving for her. Lee picked up, too, that Wren paid for the lawn service that took care of Mamaw Gigi’s yard, and she carried Mamaw’s phone on her mobile plan.

It was a lot, and Lee realized that, as her grandmother aged, Wren would take on even more. And it wouldn’t be easy.

He knew Wren lived three blocks away from her grandmother — on the second floor of a duplex. And yet, Mamaw Gigi owned a house with a second-floor duplex. As he dried dishes next to the two women, Lee found himself asking the obvious. “Wren, wouldn’t it be easier for you to live in the apartment upstairs? I mean, if you’re here several times a week any—" He halted mid-sentence when Wren’s face blanched and Mamaw Gigi’s eyes widened behind her thick glasses.

The dessert plate Wren held slipped back into the dishwater with a clank, and Wren stared at it, unseeing. Mamaw Gigi curled an arm around her granddaughter and seemed to brace her.

“I said something wrong,” he blurted, ice filling his gut. “What did I do?”

Neither woman looked at him.

On instinct, Lee stepped closer to Wren. She held up a hand to stop him.

“What did I do?” he asked again, his heart breaking into a race.

“Wrennie, would you like to take your guest outside for a breath of fresh air?”

Wren shook her head. “No… no…” She pulled in a breath and shrugged her grandmother’s arm off her. “…let’s finish up in here first.” She stuck her hands in the dishwater again, but when she brought up the plate to rinse it, Lee saw that her fingers shook.

Wren wouldn’t meet his gaze when she handed the plate to him. “Stop looking at me like that,” she ordered.

Lee made himself look away. It was the cowardly thing to do. He wanted to pull her into his arms and demand to know why his question upset her, but fear held him by the throat. Wren was so good at pushing him away, and things had gone so well for the last few days that he dared not press her.

“What are you talking about?” he asked lightly. “I’m just standing here drying a plate.”

A weak laugh escaped Wren’s lips, and Mamaw Gigi bit back a smile. At least he’d managed this.

Finally, Wren looked up at him. “That’s good. Looks like you got your hands full.”

“
I THINK I
should go home tonight.”

Even in night’s shadows, Wren could see Lee’s disappointment. They sat in her Mustang in his driveway. She’d let him drive home — he’d bounced in the driver’s seat like a seven-year-old, cheering as he revved the engine — but now he was putting it together. Letting him drive was her way of softening the blow. She’d agreed to sleep over — she’d
offered
to sleep over — and now she was backing out.

But the evening had been strained, to say the least. Wren knew Mamaw hadn’t meant to, but her grandmother’s ridiculous behavior had only reinforced the truth. Mamaw Gigi was over-the-moon to have Lee to dinner because he was so far out of her league.

And then Wren had to go all catatonic when he’d asked about that damn apartment. They were lucky she hadn’t run screaming out the front door. She knew Lee thought she was tough, but he’d come dangerously close to seeing her max out. She needed to regroup before she did something stupid.

He studied her for a moment. “Please come in.”

Wren shook her head. “Not tonight.”

Lee held her gaze. “Give me a chance to change your mind.”

Wren had to smile at his persistence, but she wasn’t going to bend. “Another time.”

He drew a breath to speak and worked his jaw for a moment, seeming to weigh his words. Then he took Wren’s hand in his. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? I mean, I won’t even touch you if you don’t want me to,” he said, looking almost pained. “I just want to be with you.”

Wren gave a mirthless laugh. “So, what? We’d just cuddle?”

“Yeah.” The left side of his mouth curved up in the most bewitching way. “That sounds awesome.”

Wren laughed again. In her twenty-five years on the planet, she’d never just cuddled. That wasn’t why men got into bed with her. Everything in her experience had taught her that when a man got into bed with her, he wanted one thing, and if she didn’t want that same thing, she had no business lying down with him.

“Gimme my keys.” She held out her hand to Lee, and she was grateful he didn’t hesitate. Wren was out of the car in the next second, but she stood back and kept her distance while Lee stepped out of the driver’s seat.

He had no problem reading her intentions. He closed the Mustang’s door, leaned against it, and folded his arms across his chest, blocking her retreat.

“What did I do, Wren?”

She expected him to look angry, but something softer filled his eyes. Was it regret?

“Nothing. I’m just tired,” she lied.

Lee pulled in a deep breath and held it before letting it go. He watched her. “I’m going to be honest with you,” he said, his voice even. “I have a twenty-four-hour shift tomorrow, and I need a good night’s sleep—”

“Good, go get i—”

“I’m not finished.” He squared his shoulders and pitched his voice lower, silencing her. “I need a good night’s sleep. And the thought of not seeing you until Thursday or even Friday physically hurts—”

The sound of her startled breath rasped between them. Lee dropped his hands and pressed his palms against her car.

“So I need you to kiss me. And I mean really kiss me so that I know we’re okay. So I know that this isn’t you trying to push me away again. And I’ll know that come Thursday or Friday, you’ll let me see you.”

His fearlessness wrecked her. Where did he get the power to just say those things aloud, when, at the moment, she could say nothing.

Wren swallowed and took a step toward him. He didn’t make her come any closer because he was off the car and on her in the next instant. The crush of his lips against hers and the greedy way he held her face told her just as much as his words, demanding from her every reassurance that she was with him.

And she wanted to be with him. She wanted it more than anything.

She gave as good as she got, but, in the end, Wren pulled away first. Because wanting to be right for Lee and
being
right for Lee were two different things. She pressed against his chest to move out of his arms, but he tightened them around her.

“I’m letting you go right now, but you’re going to have to tell me eventually.”

“Tell you what?” Wren managed, stuffing the fear down her own throat and giving him her toughest tone.

“You know what.”

“Goodnight, Lee.”

He loosened his hold and moved his hands to her elbows. “Call me when you get home.”

“I don’t—”

His grip tightened. “Call me when you get home so I know you’re all right, and I can get some sleep.”

She let go a sigh. “Fine.”

He pulled her close again and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, beautiful Wren.”

And then he stepped back and opened her door for her. Feeling every inch a loser, Wren sunk into her driver’s seat, started the Mustang, and drove home.

Agnes met her at the door, mewling insistently, so Wren locked up and fed her cat. While Agnes ate, Wren leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at her phone.

If she called Lee, he’d want to talk. She loved talking on the phone with him, but he was too good at reading her. A shudder rolled off her shoulders as she thought of his questions. Better to text.

Wren:
I’m home. Get some sleep.

She set the phone down on her counter.

Nothing happened. No call. No text. Maybe she was safe for the night.

It was ridiculously early, but Wren wanted to crawl into bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, but she might be able to work on a tattoo design and escape her thoughts. Wren went to her bathroom, took out her contacts, and washed her face. She put on her glasses and avoided the coward who looked back at her in the mirror.

In her bedroom, she found her white, cotton, shift nightgown. It was sleeveless and timeless, and it would breathe around her. Wren stripped down to her panties and pulled it on, sighing as it fell over her skin, cool and loose. Sitting in bed with her sketchbook and Agnes was exactly what she needed.

She went through her apartment, gathering her book and her pens and begrudgingly picking up her phone on the way back to her room.

No calls. No texts.

This surprised her, but maybe Lee had seen that she’d gotten home and let himself go to sleep.

“The thought of not seeing you until Thursday or even Friday physically hurts.”

The memory of those words sent a tickle down her spine. Climbing into bed and settling against her mountain of pillows, she shook off the sensation. It was only a matter of time.

Every day, she’d expected him to do a double-take, shake his head, and say,
“What the hell was I thinking?”

And when that happened, what would happen to her?

Shoving that unwelcome thought aside, Wren flipped through the camera roll on her phone. She had yet to attempt to sketch any of the egrets from their kayak trip. The fourth image in the album caught her eye. The feathers of the male egret’s breeding plumage were sharp and focused, and his neck held a striking curve that captured his grace and beauty.

Beginning with his face, she attempted to capture the far-off look in his golden eye before moving to the grand feathers at the back of his head. Was he seeking his mate? Beckoning the right one to come to him?

“You are perfect for me. In every way.”

Wren closed her eyes at the memory. How had he known she’d been thinking the polar opposite at that moment? Wren hadn’t believed his words to be true, but she’d let herself play with the thought. If she were, in fact, perfect for Lee in every way, then he would have to be perfect for her. And that wasn’t possible, since he was unlike her in so many ways.

He was open; she was closed. He was fearless; she was terrified. He was flawless; she was ruined. He had peace; she had pain. In the throes of their lovemaking that first time, she’d told him the truth. She wanted to be just like him. To be open and fearless and flawless and peaceful.

Was that even possible? And if it were, if she were those things, wouldn’t she then be his true match? Because then she would be free to love him. It would be safe to love him.

But I already love him.

There it was. The real problem. Wren had lived for almost twenty years being closed, terrified, ruined, and pained. She knew how to live that way. She could do that in her sleep — as long as she slept alone.

But, sharing all of that with somebody else? Letting someone else see all of that up close? What would be the point of that?

On Lee’s kayak, Wren had told him that she didn’t believe in love. That was the truth. At least she didn’t believe that love was for her. Of course, she knew that Mamaw Gigi loved her. And Cherise loved her. And Rocky and Shelby loved her. But theirs was the kind of one-size-fits-all love. They loved her as they loved lots of other people. And they could because they didn’t have to limit themselves to her alone.

But romantic love?

Lee was used to the best. If Lee had picked Victor, who’d been the best puppy of the litter, then out of all the women in the world, why in hell would he pick her? Why would he pick ruined when he could have flawless?