Page 11 of Leather and Longing
In a burst of clarity, Paul realised Adam was trying to deliberately push his buttons. Mrs. Lambton had done well to share about Paul’s predecessors.
Forewarned is forearmed.
“I qualified a year ago as a physiotherapist.”
Adam’s face fell. “Ah, that explains why Caroline has hired you. My dear sister is clearly anticipating my being in need of assistance after yet another fall.” There was such an air of dejection about him that for a moment Paul actually felt some sympathy for the man.
That emotion withered when Adam’s jaw firmed up again. “Let’s get something straight right from the start. My sister may have hired you, but it is I who will be paying you. I will be doing so under protest. I donotneed a companion. I am not an invalid; I am simply blind.”
“Understood.” Paul thought it best to let Adam get his feelings out into the open. Maybe then they could move on.
“And as for you living here, that is totally unacceptable.”
Paul became still.What the fuck?His head was beginning to ache from all the twists and turns. “But your sister said?—”
“Ido not carewhat Caroline said, Ido notwant you living here. If I must endure your company, it will be during the day. When the evening comes, you will leave.” He paused before continuing. “But as far as my sister is concerned, you live here. She won’t find out. She’s been an infrequent visitor, which is just how I like it. In truth, I do my utmost to discourage her from coming here. Recently, however, she’s grown immune to my efforts.” His jaw unclenched and his brow smoothed out. “So if she does visit, she is not to learn the truth, is that understood?”
“Yes.” There was little else Paul could say in the circumstances. His heart sank at the thought of not living in the house. It had been a very pleasant prospect.
“I’m assuming you wanted something, Phil—boy.” Adam sounded thoroughly bored.
Paul couldn’t decide whether the error was deliberate or not.And there’s that bloody word again.It took him a moment to regain his composure. “I came to find out if you wanted chicken salad or chicken sandwiches for your lunch.” It sounded really trite after the vitriol Adam had spouted.
Adam gave a derisive huff. “Maybe I’m not capable of making decisions of such huge import. Maybe I could get some ex-presidents on the phone to advise me? Or failing that, maybe some other intellectual colossus, like maybe, a live-in companion. What doyouthink, Paul? Share with me the wisdom of your twenty-five years. Which is going to have a greater impact on my long-term well-being, the salad or the sandwich?”
Paul stared at him, unable to speak, his cheeks hot.
Adam snapped his fingers. “Quickly, boy, quickly. This may not be the Cuban missile crisis, but the fate of the world may quite possibly hang on your decision.” Before Paul could comeback with a retort, Adam sagged into his armchair. “You know what?” he ground out. “I don’t. Fucking. Care. Just bring me something so this day will be closer to ending.”
“Fine.” Paul choked out the word. “I’ll bring you your lunch and then keep out of your way.”
“At last! The eagle has landed.”
Paul couldn’t stand there another second and listen to that voice. He did the only thing he could think of—he fled to the safety of the kitchen.
This is a mistake.
Chapter Five
The front doorclosed with a decisive bang. Adam sat rigid in the armchair, listening as Paul’s footsteps crunched on the gravel drive. A car door slammed, the engine coughed, then growled into life. Tires crunched, faded. Silence spread its wings.
He exhaled, the breath shuddering out of him as though it had been caged. Relief, he told himself. That was what he felt. But beneath it, something raw lingered. Guilt, maybe.
He’d snapped at Paul, flung words like knives, all acid and venom. He hadn’t wanted to sense that calm, unshaken presence lingering in the doorway while Adam tore into him. Every syllable had been calculated to wound, to drive the man out of his life. And yet Paul had stood there, silent, absorbing the storm without flinching.
And then, instead of slamming the door and leaving for good, he had simply said,“I’ll be back in the morning.”
That had rattled Adam more than anything.
Why wasn’t he gone? Everyone else had left quickly enough.
Adam pressed his fists into his thighs, feeling the tension coil. He’d treated Paul no worse than the others. Maybe worse, if he thought about it. So why was his chest tight, his thoughts circling, his tongue dry as though he’d swallowed ashes? Heshouldfeel triumphant. Instead, the silence in the wake of Paul’s departure pressed heavy against his skin.
The library had become his refuge these past weeks, the one room he could still navigate without stumbling like a drunk. Even so, he’d had his reminder just yesterday. One misstep on the way to the toilet, one forgotten angle of the rug beneath his chair, and he’d gone sprawling. His chin cracked on the edge of the table, his glasses skidding across the floor.
The pain had been sharp, but worse was the helpless flailing, the time it took him to orient himself, to find the chair, his glasses, to push back to his feet.
No one had been there. No one had known. The empty house had swallowed his curses.
