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“Maybe, but I can. My heart hurts. I feel your sadness. Can I?” She tipped her head to the phone, and I nodded.
She looked down, taking a moment before she spoke. “Who is he?”
“A friend,” I whispered.
“He has kind eyes.”
“Alex. He died. Three years ago. Today would have been his 33rd birthday.”
She placed her hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. She handed me back my phone and wrapped our hands together, entwining our fingers as she leaned her head against my shoulder. The sound of the still running shower punctuating the space.
“He was murdered,” I let out, filling the void with my words.
A gasp slipped from her lips. I wanted to tell her the rest, but the truth lodged in my throat like barbed wire.
Standing, she tugged my hand. “Let’s go shower. Wash your day off.”
“Sugar, I can’t,” I replied, not able to give her the attention she deserved.
“Hey, trust me. Let me look after you for a change.”
“Today’s a lot. I can’t just be happy Marshall.”
She offered me a half smile. “You’re usually grumpy wanker Marshall, who speaks before he thinks, but I’ve grown really fond of you and I want to take care of you.” I opened my mouth to speak, but she continued. “This isn’t about sex.”
Seeing that she understood, I followed her. She undressed me slowly, peeling off my t-shirt before pulling my jeans and boxers down.
“Go, get in. Put your hands on the back wall,” she instructed, and I moved without question. The hot water hit my skin and I let out a groan, the stress of holding it together all day suddenly noticeable in every muscle of my body. Leaning my head forward, I let the jets cascade over my head, soaking my hair and drowning out the world.
I jumped when her hands wrapped around my waist, and she leaned her naked body against my back. We stayed like that for a while, the steady beat of her heart settling my racing one.
When she stepped back slightly, I groaned because I’d welcomed the comfort she was giving me, but she whispered reassuring words as she poured shower gel into her hands and ran them from my neck down my back, washing every inch of me. As she moved, memories crashed into me like a kaleidoscope of pain and I was glad I was braced against something solid.
The sound of voices on the radio, the flashing red and blue lights, the glint of a blade, the blood, his rasping breath, and the vacant look in his eyes as I lost him.
I didn’t realize I was sobbing until Lea was in front of me, easing my body to hers as I buried my face in her neck and released years of pain and guilt, knowing the truth; that I killed him.
Chapter 20
Fox
LeaandDawsonhadleft early to go to the office, but I knew Marshall was off today and Lea had told me he’d had a hard day yesterday and was worried about him being on his own, so I stayed home with him.
Despite him still declaring he wasn’t into men at least three times a day, we’d stopped believing him a long time ago, but none of us called him out on it because he obviously had his reasons and who were we to judge? I’d gotten up early because I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about being alone in bed with me and made him breakfast. Carrying it upstairs, I stood for a minute, watching his impressive chest rise and fall, his early morning wood tenting the Egyptian cotton sheets.
Suddenly feeling like the voyeur in the room, I moved closer, placing the tray on the bedside table. “Hey, sleeping beauty. I brought you breakfast.”
Marshall stretched slowly, and I tried not to let my eyes track over how his muscles rippled or his back arched, while his eyes fluttered open.
“Hhhmmm?”
“Breakfast. It’s just you and me today.”
“You made me breakfast?” he mumbled.
“I did.”
