Lev leaving changes everything. Gone is the easy relaxed vibe, the breezy summertime chill. Now, I’m hyper-aware of every last thing. My head spins on a swivel, clocking every squirrel that dares wander close, listening to every nuance in Uri’s inhales and exhales.
From afar, Uri and I probably look like a couple on a date. And a very romantic date at that.
I remember when Elle and Liam had just started “hanging out,” one of their first dates was a picnic in Joshua Tree. Ultimate panty-dropper move, Elle had told me afterwards.
She’s not wrong; it’s just that this particular picnic was not meant for me and Uri. It was meant for me, Uri, and Lev. Someone up there must be pulling strings and laughing at my expense. The thought that it might be Ziva makes me feel slightly better.
Uri is resting on his forearms, his head angled towards the house. Is he trying to figure out how to leave? Is he just going to ignore me for a bit, then burp up some lame excuse about being busy? Is he regretting joining us in the first place?
My God, I’m so bad at silences.
“He still has physical therapy?” I blurt.
“Two hours a day, three times a week.” Uri slowly turns back to face me. “Every week. The accident destroyed his leg and his spine. He was this close to being paralyzed for life, but the doctors managed to save him from that fate, at least. Still, he needs to do specific exercises to make sure his limbs remain usable.”
“And he doesn’t mind the therapy?”
“Not anymore. We have George to thank for that. There were six PTs before him and none lasted more than a few months.”
I can’t help a shy grin. “Did Lev scare off the others?”
Uri shakes his head wearily. “Lev is unpredictable. When he’s calm, he’s calm. When he’s out of control, he’s a force of nature. It’s hard to know who he’ll bond with—but when he does, he bonds hard.”
He gives me a glance that feels almost… accusatory? But as usual, I’m just taking a stab in the dark here. Guessing what Uri is feeling is a dangerous game.
“I’m glad he’s found someone he’s comfortable with,” I remark. “I’ll bet that doesn’t happen very often.”
“Outside of the family, George is the only one.”
Is that another accusing glance? Why do I get the feeling he’s trying to tell me something without actually saying it?
I tilt my face up towards the sun and sigh. “It feels so good to be out.”
“Enjoy it while you can. You’ve got five days of sunshine.”
My eyes fly to his face. “You’re really gonna make me go down to the basement every weekend?”
“Like I said, it might not be every weekend. But this coming weekend—yes.”
“Exactly how many weekends do you anticipate I’ll be here for?”
“For as long as it takes to make sure the threat against you is taken care of.” He’s really sticking to that explanation but with every passing day, it feels more and more like a lame excuse.
“But why?”
He arches his eyebrows. “I didn’t think I’d need to remind you about the finger.”
I flinch and shudder at the memory. “Not that. I meant, why do I have to go down to the basement on weekends? The staff knows I’m here. Lev knows I’m here. Security knows I’m here. What’s the big deal?”
In my mind, that’s a simple question. But not judging from the look on Uri’s face. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Considering I’m the one who’s stuck down there, I’d say it is very much my concern.”
He scowls and looks away. “I’ll make sure you get more knitting supplies and crossword puzzles.”
I glare at him, but it doesn’t do a lick of good because he’s not actually looking at me. Why is he not looking at me? What is he hiding?
My heart drums hard against my chest and I find myself thinking about all the women he used to parade around here. Tall women, short women. Skinny women, curvy women. I’ve seen every hair color, ethnicity, and body type come through this estate. The one thing they all had in common was that each and every one of those women were absolutely gorgeous—and they knew it.
It strikes me that I’ve just assumed Uri stopped entertaining his Playboy Playmate dates at the estate since I entered it. But who’s to say if that’s true or not? Now that I really think about it, I don’t just feel embarrassed; I feel stupid. Why on Earth would he stop sleeping around just because I’m here? I’m nothing to him. Nothing more than an inconvenience.
“Is that from your sister?”
The question comes out of left field and it successfully distracts me from setting off on that particular downward spiral. I look down at my charm bracelet and of course, I’m fiddling with my Z link without even realizing it.
“Um, well… it was hers. Ziva’s. My sister. I started wearing it after—” The lump that forms in my throat is fat and ruthless. I swallow it away. “—just, after.”
He’s watching me close enough that I feel my cheeks burn. “You touch it every time you feel uncomfortable,” he observes.
I shrug. “It’s basically my safety blanket at this point.”
“That makes sense.”
I frown. “Does it?”
He glances at the bracelet. “I’m guessing before that bracelet, she was your safety blanket.”
“Oh my.” I haven’t even got a coherent word out and already I can feel the tears coming. I try to bite them down but the lump in my throat is back with a vengeance. I make the mistake of looking into his piercing blue eyes.
I’m not sure what I see in them. Sympathy? Understanding? Compassion? Whatever it is, a sob escapes my lips and then I’m fully crying.
“Dammit,” I choke up. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
I wipe my face with the sleeve of my shirt but it doesn’t make a difference because the tears don’t stop. “God, I hate crying. This is embarrassing.”
“Why? You’re crying for someone you love. There’s no shame in that.”
He makes a good point. But unfortunately, it only makes the tears flow harder. The weight on my chest persists. That old familiar bruise. It’s been a while since I’ve sat with it like I’m doing now, but spending time with Lev has pulled it to the surface.
And since I’m already crying, I figure I might as well talk about it.
“I-it was… Leukemia,” I manage to burble out. “That’s what killed her.” Uri’s eyes soften considerably, though he says nothing. “It took me a very long time to learn how to live without her. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve ever really learned to live without her.”
“It’s not the same thing,” he says gently. “It never will be. It took me a while to adjust, too.”
I raise my tear-stained eyes to his. “In what way?”