“One more, Clare,” I demanded, using one hand to help her lift the bar.
She groaned, struggling to get it up before finally catching it in the cups.
“Nice!” I praised halfheartedly.
She’d shown up with a busted lip and a fresh bruise peeking out from under her tank top. I’d excused myself under the pretenses of making a call and then spent ten minutes pacing my office in an effort to keep myself from demanding she tell me what the fuck had happened.
I needed to know she was okay.
But, if I asked, she would have just said yes.
The answer would have been no, especially not with marks like that.
Scars on her wrists.
Bruises on her thighs.
A gash through her eyebrow.
And there was not one fucking thing I could do to stop it from happening again without compromising the entire investigation.
For almost a month, I’d been patiently working with her, but she hadn’t opened up yet. And it felt like acid to my soul each time I had to ignore what that scum was doing to her.
“You do know I’m not trying to become a bodybuilder, right?” she smarted as she sat up on the bench, giving me a full view of the bite mark on the back of her shoulder.
Gritting my teeth, I flexed my hands at my sides and pasted on a grin that I prayed passed as something more than a grimace. “Which is exactly why you’re only lifting the bar.”
“Ten reps though? Walt’s going to lose his mind if I start putting on muscle.”
“Fuck Walt,” I shot back before I could catch myself.
She barked a laugh. “I can’t say I disagree. But you’re not the one who has to live with him.”
I meandered toward the free weights and pretended to be interested in a set of fifteen-pounders. “You know you don’t have to live with him, either.”
I chanced a glance up and found her eyes locked on mine in the mirror. “Unfortunately, that’s not true,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I could help—”
She cut me off. “So, what’s next, Luke? I feel like I need manly shoulders to go with my new manly biceps.”
I chuckled, but it was completely for her benefit. I found not one thing humorous.
When I faced her, I caught a glimpse of her dipping her mouth to her wrist.
My forehead crinkled as I asked, “Did you just kiss your watch?”
She smirked. “It’s 11:11. You have to kiss the clock or you don’t get a wish.”
“You are aware that you’re twenty-eight years old, right?”
“And?” She grinned, her eyes temporarily extinguishing the flame as they lit with pure, breathtaking happiness.
No makeup, blond hair pulled back in a sweaty ponytail, gray jogging shorts with a matching pink-and-gray tank that exposed countless black-and-blue patches, and a smile so genuine that I didn’t just see it—I felt it deep inside my chest, in a place a subject of interest had no business being.
Clearing my throat, I attempted to shake off my stupor. “Okay, well, what’d you wish for?”
She curled her lip and gawked as though I were insane. “I can’t tell you that!”
“Come on. You don’t seriously believe that crap.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Um…I kiss the clock at 11:11 in order to make a wish. I think it’s fair to assume I absolutely believe that crap.” Another of her Earth-shaking grins assaulted me.
At that moment, I didn’t care what the hell she’d wished for. I’d have made a deal with the devil to make it come true. And we were dealing with Walter Noir, so that might have been exactly what I had to do.
I rounded her side of the bench and snagged my bottle of water off the floor. “Well, maybe we can swap. I had a birthday last week, so I have a wish of my own. I’m sure a trade wouldn’t be against the cosmic rules of wishes.”
She dramatically clutched her chest. “Come on. That’s not fair! You know I won’t be able to resist the temptation of knowing big, bad Luke Cosgrove’s birthday wish.”
I laughed at her blatant sarcasm before taunting, “Your loss, because it was a really badass one this year, too.”
Her nose crinkled adorably as she tapped her chin in mock consideration. She might have been joking, but her curiosity was real, and eventually, it got the best of her.
“Okay, fine. But you go first.” She anxiously rolled her fingers together, and I swear to God the woman was damn near giddy as she stared at me with rapt excitement.
My birthday wasn’t actually for another month, and I hadn’t blown candles out since my little sister Maggie had turned fifteen and become too cool to bake her big brother birthday cakes anymore. I had no actual wish to share with her. But, if I could make her laugh, I’d happily forgo all birthday wishes for the rest of my life.