“I think...” Flora’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling.
“I know.” Leon briefly rested his forehead against hers.
Too much. Too soon. The words didn’t need to be spoken out loud. Two broken hearts. Two damaged souls. Two lives destroyed by loss and pain. One kiss couldn’t fix that. Going beyond that? It was tempting. But it would be madness. Delicious madness.
Even so, when their lips had met, and time had stood still, Leon had caught a glimpse of something he had never dreamed he would see again. He had seen hope.
“I put a blanket and some pillows on the sofa.” Flora was clearly striving for a return to normality.
Leon glanced at the clock over the cooker. “It’s past midnight. We should try and get some sleep.”
She moved to the door, then turned back. “Thank you.”
The smile in her eyes almost had him crossing the room to take her into his arms again. “What for?”
“Being here. Everything.”
Heat shimmered in the air, fiercer than before, and Leon clenched his fists at his sides. There was already so much going on, acting on this would be a mistake. He was almost certain of that.
He tried for a lighter note. “Maybe Tiny knew what he was doing when he knocked you over?”
Flora rolled her eyes. “If he leaves his next victim unconscious, I don’t think you should rely on that as a defense.”
Leon watched as she left the room. Before he followed her, he reached for the pull-cord and closed the blind, shutting out the inky darkness beyond the window.
Chapter 8
After two hours of trying to clear her head and force herself to fall sleep, Flora sat up. Switching on the light beside her bed, she opened the drawer of her bedside locker and fumbled inside for the bestseller she kept there. Her fingers closed around another object and she paused for a moment before withdrawing it.
She clasped the locket in her hand for a moment, feeling its familiar weight. When she opened it, her chest tightened painfully. That picture of Danny had been taken on their wedding day. In it, he was smiling into the camera in that clear, unself-conscious way he’d had. More than ever, he reminded her of the twins.
Were we ever that young?
Six years. It felt like a lifetime ago. She smiled as she touched the picture with one fingertip. So much had happened since that day. Face it. It was a lifetime ago.
Just after Danny’s death, she would cling to this picture. Overwhelmed by grief, she’d tried bargaining. Five minutes. That was all she needed with him. Just enough time to have him back so she could tell him everything that was in her heart and hear him say it would all be okay. That was in the early days when she’d wondered how she was going to keep going, when even taking her next breath seemed pointless.
Then the twins had come along, and sorrow had been forced to take a back seat. Flora wasn’t sure if time healed all wounds, but the memories became kinder. The occasions when she could remember him with a smile instead of tears became more frequent. Missing him was like riding a roller coaster. Some days her heart hurt so much all she could do was get by. There were other times when she almost felt normal.
Now, she was looking at Danny differently. And maybe that was because she had been lying awake, unable to catch hold of sleep, partly because of the killings and the break-in, but also because of the man who was downstairs on her sofa.
There had been many imagined early-hours-of-the-morning conversations with Danny. In her head, she’d tell him about the milestones in the twins’ lives. Teething, ailments, those memorable toilet training weeks. She would ask his advice on a range of decisions. Should she buy a new car or give the old one another six months? Was she doing the right thing with the move to Wyoming?
As time had gone by, his voice had faded from her mind. While that saddened her, she was still able to maintain those silent dialogs, mainly because she was able to predict Danny’s response.
Let go or be dragged.
It was his saying. His mantra. The least Zen person she had ever known had somehow taken a distinctly meditative approach to life. And that was what she heard in those late-night chats. When Stevie’s biting phase coincided with Frankie’s high-pitched screeching? Let it go, babe. Don’t be dragged. That male colleague in Denver who stepped across the sarcasm line and became downright insulting? Let go...
Until now, she hadn’t shared the details of the current situation with him in one of her imaginary talks. Honesty compelled her to assess the reason. Was it because even Danny wouldn’t be able to apply his usual slogan to a double murder or the overt threats to Flora’s own safety? Or was it because the attacks had started at the same time that she’d met Leon?
She closed her eyes, unable to prevent a single tear from escaping and tracing its way down her cheek. This was too hard. Three and a half years ago, she had vowed that her boys would always come first. That would never change. But Flora was a realist. She had predicted that this day would come.
She touched a finger to her lips, a slight shiver running through her as she relived the sensation of Leon’s lips on hers. Yes. She had anticipated that one day she was likely to feel attracted to another man. What she could never have foreseen was the speed or intensity of her connection to Leon.
She had heard Leon described by the town gossips as an alcoholic. Even if that wasn’t true, his post-traumatic stress disorder had led to a drinking problem that had, at one time, been out of control. Clearly, his life was back on track these days. He held down a
