Page 19 of Indigo

Why didn’t he just tell me? Why didn’t I realise Michael had blocked his number?

God, what a mess I’ve made.

It takes me all of two seconds to realise I’ve left the bathroom door ajar out of habit, not used to having people just wandering around my house, as Pax’s eyes lock with mine in the mirror.

“Jesus Christ!” I cry, spinning around and clutching the towel tighter to my chest.

How much did he see?

“I–” He clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Saw nothing, I promise. I just wanted to know if you felt like another coffee while I’m making one for myself.”

“You couldn’t have waited ‘til I came back out?” I ask, my heart still pounding as I lean back into the vanity behind me.

He nods, eyes still on the wall. “Could have. Didn’t realise the door would be open.”

“Yes,” I groan, turning around and pulling my Wet Brush from the drawer underneath the sink. “To coffee,” I clarify. “Please.”

His lips twitch as he watches me untangle my hair from the towel and begin brushing through it. His eyes lock on my arm and widen a fraction before he slowly pushes the door fully open and moves toward me. I see in the reflection as he lifts his hand and reaches for me. I tense, waiting for the contact, and realise he’s looking at the bruise already forming from earlier tonight.

“I’m sorry I let him hurt you,” he says, his fingers barely brushing across the mark. Leaning forward, he places his lips on my shoulder blade and kisses it so tenderly that tears well in my eyes. I blink them away and continue brushing through my curls, trying not to let on how much his touch affects me.

Why didn’t he touch me like this when I wanted him to? Why has it taken four fucking years for him to look at me this way?

Why can’t I tell him to stop?

“I’ll make you a coffee and we’ll talk, okay?” he asks, running his nose along the back of my head, inhaling deeply.

When he closes the door behind him, and I’m alone again, I exhale loudly and shake my head at myself in the mirror. “What are you going to do, Indie?”

After applying curl cream and scrunching the hell out of my hair, ensuring my curls will dry the way I like, I put on a pair of emerald green sweats and the matching jumper, and walk back into the kitchen expecting to find Pax, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Pax?”

“In the lounge,” he calls back, his voice echoing through the apartment.

“Seriously?” I ask, fighting a smile and losing the battle as I spot him sipping his coffee, spread out on the couch, remote pointed at the TV as he scrolls through Netflix. Draped over his lap is the multicoloured brown, orange and blue crochet blanket Mum made me for Christmas last year. “Made yourself comfortable, huh?”

He nods, not taking his eyes off the television until he pauses on Gilmore Girls.

Damn him. The man’s always known the way to calm me down when I’m pissy.

“Sit down, Blue,” he commands softly, patting the spot next to him. “I’m going to lay all this out for you, and then we’re going to watch your favourite show together, because I’ve fucking missed you. Missed being near you. Tomorrow, we’ll make a game plan and take it from there, okay?”

“You’re staying?” I ask, barely able to find my voice.

He nods, his captivating hazel eyes holding mine as I drop down beside him. I hate this couch, it’s uncomfortable as hell and I’ve always been too scared to drink my coffee anywhere near it in case it spills, but I reach for the mug he placed on the black leather oversized ottoman I use as a coffee table in front of us because I need to hold something to ground me for this conversation.

“Okay. Now, let me finish before you get your back up again, okay? I can handle your sass, but I need you to hear it all before you start mouthing off.”

I huff out a laugh and nod, lifting the mug to my lips, all ears.

“Come home. You can work at Shep Auto Repairs with me and Jag. The guys there are great, and the work would be pretty similar to your previous gig minus all the medical shit. You’d have to learn a bit about cars, but I can teach you what you need to know. I’m sure you’ll pick it up pretty quick with that brain of yours,” he winks at me, and I notice his hand is shaking a little as he grips his coffee.

He’s nervous.

“I know you’ve always loved Mr Reed’s house, down the street from your mum’s place, and he put it up for sale a few months back. It hasn’t sold, and I spoke to him about renting it out to you for a while. When I dropped your name, he was more than happy to do it. You could buy it from him down the track, if you wanted to. He said he’s happy for you to do whatever you want to the house, ‘cos I’m warning you now that it needs some fucking work, but it’s nothing I can’t fix up and I’m sure, being your mother’s daughter, you’ll want to paint the entire thing pink or something ridiculous, but that’s cool. I can email you the rental agreement and the job offer for you to look through tomorrow if you like.”

He pats the laptop sitting on the other side of him. I didn’t even see it when I sat down. Where did it come from? Did he go down to his car to get it? How did he get back into the building?

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