Page 34 of Read With Your Heart

“I prefer sweet and sour,” I say.

“We do this in one of my classes,” Lys informs the table, and I smile as I actually took the idea from a special education teacher who told me about it.

“Leon, why don’t you begin?” Two silver eyes pierce me like sterling silver knives at the suggestion.

“I don’t know what to say,” he grumbles. I can think of something. He could say the sweet was that I kissed him earlier this week; the sour is that we haven’t kissed again, but that’s not really dinner conversation.

“Fine, I’ll start,” I decide, knowing a teacher should always give an example first. “Sweet. I’m happy to have you all living here with me.” Lys’s head pops up while Leon continues to watch me, fork frozen mid-lift to his mouth. “Sour. I think Leon snores.”

He continues to stare at me, and Lys giggles. Our rooms butt up to one another, so I can hear Leon making noises in the night. The bed jostling. The rustle of his sheets. Sharp, breathy noises. I’m reminded of watching him touch himself through the window, and I wonder if he’s doing it nightly in the bed on the other side of the wall. Then again, he could be having bad dreams, which has crossed my mind a time or two, and I’ve wondered if I should wander into his room to check on him.

“I do not snore,” he mutters, his eyes still looking into mine.

“You do too,” Lena refutes. She imitates him with the most exaggerated noise she can make. I slowly smile, and Lys giggles.

“Fine,” Leon hisses, turning to Lena. “Sweet. We lived through Mrs. Drummond’s. Sour. My sister is a pain in the ass.”

Lys’s giggles immediately subside, and I softly gasp. The sweet was a little abrupt, and the sour was kind of mean.

“Sweet. I got an A on my math quiz. Sour. Leon,” Lena quickly adds.

“I don’t think—” I begin.

“Sweet,” Lys interrupts. “Ms. Carter made a nice dinner. I like chicken and rice.” She kindly smiles at me before her expression falls a little. “Sour. I miss Mami and Papi.”

Crap. The table settles into a stilted silence like it was prior to this game. Leon glances at Lys, and I want him to touch her. I want him to comfort his sister by reaching out a hand to her. His eyes leap back to me, and I’m expecting blame. However, as I’m staring at his sister with heartache in my expression, Leon sits taller in his seat.

“I’m amending my sweet and sour. Sweet is that Tricia’s letting us live with her and you two are with me.” I sense the hesitation in Leon as his eyes shift to his younger sister. I hold my breath for some reason, and then he does what I’d hoped. He cups her cheek. Tenderness.

“Sour.” His hand drops from Lys and lowers to the table. He takes a deep breath, contemplating. “I don’t have one.” His head pops up, and he glances across the table at me. “Today was a good day, and I’ve learned to appreciate them more.” It’s so not what I expected, and my shoulders fall in relief but also sorrow. I’m reminded he’s been in prison, and I can only imagine how bleak some days were.

I want to reach for him, to cup his cheek and tell him I’m glad he’s here. It’s been a strange comfort having them in my home even though I’d wanted this time to myself. I feel a tiny bit safer knowing Leon’s on the other side of my bedroom wall, and even if Trent Walker is outside my home, this man is inside it. Despite his tough exterior, Leon’s inside is softer than he’ll admit. He does care about his sisters.

Eventually, I assign a chore list. Leon really is working hard, and his sisters need to appreciate him a bit more. I make the girls pick something in order to help out around the house. Their brother is covering their rent, and they need to contribute somehow. This was the way things were in my house growing up. We didn’t receive an allowance for chores. You worked because you were a part of the family. Lys is much more accepting of her new responsibilities while Lena grumbles and groans like her brother can, but eventually she does things, albeit begrudgingly.

“That’s all you want? I take out the trash and shovel if it snows.” Leon stares at my work chart, posted on the refrigerator where he’s been penciled in as well. I have another way he can help me around this house. Jess told me he thought Leon was handy and could use some distraction outside of work. It prompts me to suggest he assist me in renovating the house.

“Well, I have something else in mind for you.” I don’t mean it to sound breathless or suggestive when I speak, but I haven’t been able to get images of us together out of my mind whenever we are in the same room—or even when we aren’t. My head clouds with visions of his bare chest over me and my hands cupping that firm backside of his.

I can’t believe I kissed him the night he moved in. Obviously, it had no effect on him as he didn’t respond. It was like the night he kissed me—a soft sweep and then nothing. I, on the other hand, could hardly sleep that night. My heart fluttered with disappointment. I wanted him to hold me close, pull me to him, and give me what I can’t ever remember feeling with a man. Having roommates has curtailed any personal pleasuring time, and it would be fine if the man of my fantasies wasn’t suddenly in my space. Too bad I want him closer. The truth is, I shouldn’t want those things from him at all, and perhaps, he acted in my own best interest by not responding to me. If Leon ever touched me, I’d be a lit match bursting into a hot flame.

“I’d like your help assessing what needs to be done with the house. Jess thought you might be able to help with some minor stuff that won’t cost me much to begin renovating.”

His dark brows furrow, but he nods.

“I’ve made a list, but maybe you could add to it or cross things off. If they are simple enough, we could get started. And by simple enough, I mean cost-efficient and things I am physically capable of doing.” I don’t want anything that’s an obvious improvement because I don’t want Trent to catch a whiff of my agreement with Mrs. Drummond.

“You know, this house is kind of a dump, just like that one.” Leon nods in the direction of the house the fire chief has condemned until further inspection, which really means until Mrs. Drummond gets it fixed for residential living. It turns out, there is mold in the basement, which might have aggravated Amaryllis’s allergies. Plus, in addition to the furnace issue, the gas line to the stove was found to be corroded, and the dryer vent was not installed correctly.

“It might be, but it’s not going to stay that way,” I reassuringly state of my own place. “It has potential, and soon it will be all mine.” I look around the ugly kitchen and imagine what the future holds.

“Why do you want this place so badly? Aren’t there other homes on the market?” Leon already knows about my rent-to-own process, but he’s been sworn to secrecy on the deal.

“Who’m I going to tell?” he’d teased.

“There weren’t other places I could make a deal like this on, and I wanted a place in town, close to home.” My mother lives on the next block over, which Leon also knows. “I wanted a place with character. I see it as giving this place a second chance.” Tom told me the house had good bones when he inspected it for me, but he admitted it needs lots of TLC to rejuvenate the place.

“Like me,” I add.