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His attention ran up my legs, but unlike Nic’s polite perusal, Peter’s focus lingered for a long moment before travelling further up my body. Butterflies invaded my stomach. I watched as he let out a gruff breath then brought his gaze to mine once more. Longing and frustration etched his features, though I had a feeling I wasn’t the entire source of the latter.
“Hey,” I said, coming to stand next to him.
“Darya.” His gaze was tender, and the way he said my name made me shiver.
“I haven’t seen you in a few days,” I went on, casting him a curious glance.
His eyes lowered as he lifted his hand, rubbing his temple with the side of his wrist.
“I’ve been working,” he replied, and I nodded.
“I thought as much.”
I watched as he brought the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled. I realised that the last time I saw him smoking was New Years’ Eve, the night he’d been hanging out in the dark by the harbour.
Several moments of silence fell before I asked, “Why are you smoking?”
He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. “It’s just something I do when I’m stressed.”
“Were you stressed on New Year’s Eve?”
“I’m always stressed when I have to spend an extended amount of time with my parents.”
“And why are you stressed tonight?” I whispered.
He stared at the ground for a beat. “I told my dad I wouldn’t work at Indigo anymore.”
“You did? What did he say?”
“All the usual crap. How I’m a waste of space, and that I’ll be putting the family in financial stress if I don’t keep working for free, the same old guilt-trip he always pulls.”
Well, that was infuriating, considering he wasn’t even living with them anymore. I certainly understood why he needed the cigarette. I took a step towards him but stopped just shy of touching him. “He has no right to talk to you like that, and it’s not your responsibility to care for your family. Your parents are both able-bodied and capable of working at the store. They just got lazy when they had you to do it for them.”
Some of the tension lifted from his features. “I know that. It doesn’t even make sense, but I still feel guilty.”
I briefly touched his shoulder. “Well, stop it. They made you homeless, Peter. You have nothing to feel guilty about. There comes a time when you need to look out for yourself.”
He heaved a sigh. “At least now I can work more hours on Clay’s market stall. That way, I can save up for a place of my own and send some money to my brothers.”
“Yeah, at least there’s that,” I said and took a sip of my cocktail.
Peter eyed it. “What are you drinking?”
“Some concoction Grace made. It’s not too bad.”
He reached out. “Let me try it.”
I handed him the glass. He took a sip, and something warm and lovely filled my stomach when his mouth touched the rim where my lips had just been. Peter winced slightly.
“So, it’s a little bit sour,” I allowed and caught the beginnings of a smile curve his lips. My butterflies increased.
Peter handed me back the cocktail and took another drag of his smoke. It was quiet out there, both of us staring at the trees and bushes that crowded the end of the garden, providing privacy from the house behind it. “I’ve missed you,” I said in a quiet voice.
He tilted his head, those handsome brown eyes shifting to me. “Missed you, too.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied me. “Are you sick?” he asked, taking me off guard.
“No. Why do you ask?”
He flicked away his cigarette and stubbed it out with his shoe, then took a step closer. I inhaled sharply when his hand clasped my neck before sliding up to cup my jaw as he backed me against the wall of Grace’s house. The way he intensely studied me gave me pleasant chills down my spine. “You look pale. Have you eaten today?”
My heart practically shimmered at his touch. I blinked and tried to focus on the question. Suddenly, I realised what he was seeing. “Yes,” I replied. “I have eaten, but I haven’t had blood in a while, and with Angela still recovering from the attack, I need to find a new blood donor. My parents have been busy with the investigation, so I’m just waiting for everything to settle down before I talk to them about it.”
Peter frowned. “Why do you need to talk to your parents about it?”
I waved a hand in the air, trying to act casual even though my heart was pounding with him so close. “There’s a whole process that needs to be followed. First, you have to put the call out. Then, you need to interview prospective donors and decide which one best suits your needs. It’s very involved, and I haven’t had the energy to think about it.”
