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It leaves my forearm pressed against her stomach.
If it’s innocent, why does this feel so compromising?
Damn.
She’s so warm through the shirt.
This perfect heated softness making me far too aware of her closeness.
Her scent makes my nostrils flare, this muted sweet beeswax smell that’s clung to her since childhood. Probably a side effect of a life raised around her mama’s handmade beeswax products, especially when she’d pitch in a hand sometimes like every good kid with parents running a small biz.
There’s also something about that smell that’s just Ophelia Sanderson.
It guts me how much I’ve missed it.
I’m damn near intoxicated as I breathe slowly, listening to her.
“He told me I was next,” she whispers, looking around like she’s afraid this freak might come flying through the door. “That if I get any closer to ‘them,’ whoever he means, I’ll be the next to die. He really seemed upset, almost manic. I don’t know. Was he threatening me or trying to warn me?”
“Sounds awfully threatening to me,” I say coldly.
“I thought so too—at first. But after he left and I finally calmed down, now I’m not so sure.”
“Philia, hehurtyou,” I snarl.
“Yeah, but I’m just not sure he meant to. He looked wild, almost scared. I don’t think he was thinking right.” Ophelia bows her head, touching her fingertips to the bruises on her arm. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think he meant any harm. Even if he scared me out of my wits...”
“Ophelia.” I barely hold myself back from snapping. “When a strange man shows up yelling death threats in your face and throwing you around, he doesn’t get the charitable interpretation.”
Her eyes fall.
“...yeah. I guess you’re right.” She presses her lips together. “But he just left, too. He banged on the door a little after I locked myself inside and I think he tried to look in the window. I thought he was about to break in but then he was just... gone.”
Gone, but most definitely not fucking forgotten.
“And if he comes back? What then?” There’s an edge in my voice.
I want to hear it from her mouth.
I want her to show me she’s still got the same stubborn common sense after all these years.
“I’ll be more careful,” she says. “I’ll check before I go outside. Every time.”
“Doesn’t mean you’ll be safe here if we don’t know what he wanted. He’ll probably be more stealthy next time,” I point out before snapping the tube of cream closed and tossing it back into the kit. “You know what, fuck this.”
“Excuse me?” Her brows go up.
“Pack your shit. You’re staying with me tonight.”
Ophelia’s head jerks up, her green eyes flashing like warning lights.
For a second, I think she’s about to pass out, and it’s got nothing to do with her run-in with Evil Jeeves.
“I’m doingwhat?Why would I do something so insane?”
“Because I don’t like the thought of you here all alone if that guy shows up again. Who the fuck knows when Ros will actually come home? You seen her?” I pull my phone out of my uniform and flick to the camera app. “Now hold your arms out and sit still so I can get a few photos for the report.”
A frustrated little noise spills past Ophelia’s lips, but she complies, thrusting her arms out straight so the bruises are more visible.
