Page 56 of Destined for Shadows
Chapter 16
Bartol
He moved throughout the house, restless and unable to leave. After Micah had finished working on Cori last night and moved on to Hayden, Bartol had brought her home and put her to bed. Though the wounds were mostly closed, they still had some healing to do.
With Cori’s reluctant permission, he’d put her to sleep with the promise he’d wake her up in thirty-six hours. It had to be that long for her to make a full recovery with no scarring. Her only condition was that he had to watch over her the whole time—no one else could replace him. He’d been fine with that, but he had not foreseen what it might be like to stay in her home for such a long period.
It was as if the damn woman surrounded him everywhere he looked. The first thing that caught his attention were all the photographs on her living room shelves with her family and friends, most of whom he didn’t recognize. Then he found the artwork she’d done over the years stacked inside a closet in her spare bedroom, which included several portraits of a little girl who looked like a younger version of Cori. Bartol could only guess she was a niece since all the women in the family had black hair. The paintings were heartrending and beautiful. He hadn’t even realized she painted.
Cori also had several cameras and hundreds of photos stacked on her desk. Some of them were of him. She’d taken pictures of Bartol while he worked in his yard and during his walks in the woods. In a few cases, he remembered seeing her around, but he hadn’t noticed the cameras at the time. Cori was far sneakier than he’d imagined, yet he couldn’t believe how well she’d captured his image. For the first time, he didn’t see his burn scars as hideous. Somehow, she’d caught him at just the right angles, so they appeared natural and perhaps even intriguing—not that he would ever admit that to her. It would certainly go to her head, and he’d never hear the end of it.
The house phone rang for the fifth time in the last two hours. He’d been ignoring it, but the same number kept popping up on the screen. What if it was Griff calling to harass her? Bartol wanted nothing more than to give that vampire a piece of his mind, and this might be his first opportunity. He couldn’t disregard the phone any longer.
He picked up the handset, taking a moment to figure out how to answer it. “Yes?”
“Who is this?” an older woman asked. “I’m trying to reach my daughter, Cori.”
He tensed. It hadn’t occurred to him that her mother might call. “She is sick and sleeping at the moment, ma’am. Can I have her call you back later?”
“Who are you? And why are you answering my daughter’s phone?” the woman demanded.
And here he’d thought Cori could be difficult, but apparently it was an inherited trait. “I am Bartol—her neighbor. She asked me to look after her while she is sick.”
“Cori stopped letting me fuss over her after she turned seven years old. She doesn’t let anyone look after her when she’s sick.” The woman let out a snort. “You expect me to believe you?”
“I assure you, ma’am, I had very little choice in the matter,” he said, peeking into Cori’s bedroom to make certain she still slept deeply. It hadn’t been easy to compel her. She had a surprisingly strong resistance to having her mind controlled even when it was voluntary, and someone powerful did it.
“If she convinced you to be there, then she had a reason.” The woman’s voice turned speculative. “Are you dating her?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Is she interested in you?” Cori’s mother asked. “Because I’ve been telling her for years to move on from that horrible ex-husband of hers. She needs a good man and to have children again.”
Bartol stilled. “Again?”
The woman sighed. “She didn’t tell you about her daughter?”
“No.”
“That deadbeat, Griff, crashed his truck and killed my grandbaby when she wasn’t quite five years old yet.” Cori’s mom sniffled. “It tore my daughter apart, and she’s never been the same since. That’s why I want her to find someone who can look after her. Are you a good man?”
“I, uh….” He was too busy absorbing the fact that Cori had a daughter. How could she have not mentioned something as important as that? Were those portraits he found in the closet of her little girl? Dozens of the puzzle pieces that made up Cori began to fall into place, and it confounded him.
“Are you there? I hope we’re not losing our connection,” the woman muttered, tapping at the phone.
Bartol rubbed at his temple. “I’m here.”
“So are you a good man?”
“No, I’m not,” he said, and took a deep breath, “but I would never hurt your daughter.”
“You know, the men who think they’re not good enough are usually the best ones.” Cori’s mother took on a wise tone. “Maybe you are the right person for her.”
He sighed. “I assure you that your daughter deserves better than me, ma’am.”
“Stop sayingma’am. My name is Joy. From now on, that is what you will call me, or I’ll take the next flight to Fairbanks and shoot you. Do you understand?”
Bartol noted a bit of Cori in her voice. He made a mental note to never be in the same room with the two women at the same time—not if he wanted to keep with his sanity and physical form intact.
