Page 9 of Lennox

"You don’t have to be alone in this," he says, his voice deep and sincere.

The tension between us thickens, but it's not uncomfortable. It's magnetic, charged with something neither of us has voiced yet.

We sit there for a while, hands touching, lost in the moment, letting the quiet of the dimly lit cafe envelop us.

A distant chime of a clock brings us back to reality. I clear my throat, pulling my hand back, my skin tingling from the contact.

"It's getting late," I murmur.

Lennox nods, pushing back his chair and standing up. As he does, his height and broad shoulders remind me again of the undeniable physical presence he has. A momentary thought flits across my mind, wondering how it would feel to be wrapped in those strong arms.

"We should get back," he says, extending his hand to help me up.

I nod, placing my hand in his, feeling that jolt of connection once again.

But instead of pulling me to my feet, Lennox leans down. His dark green eyes search mine, filled with intensity and an emotion I can't quite decipher. There's a hesitation, a question in his gaze, asking for permission. I find myself drawn in, my heartbeat echoing loudly in my ears.

And then, bridging the gap between us, his lips meet mine. It's a soft, tentative touch at first, as if testing the waters. But as our lips mold together, the kiss deepens, fueled by days of unspoken tension and longing. His hand, which had been helping me up, now rests against my throat, tilting my face up to his.

I feel a rush of emotions—the weight of my mother's health, the pressures of my job, the loneliness I’ve felt—all melting away in this singular act. Here, with Lennox, I don’t have to be the unwavering pillar of strength; I can just be Charlie, raw and unguarded.

Pulling away slightly, Lennox rests his forehead against mine, both of us catching our breaths. Eventually, he clears his throat, taking a small step back, though his hands linger near mine for a moment longer. The hospital’s ambiance, which we'd momentarily forgotten, returns to the forefront with the distant beep of machines and the shuffle of night-shift workers.

"I suppose we really should get back," he says, a hint of amusement coloring his voice, but the depth of his eyes tells a more complex story.

I nod, my cheeks warm, my heart still racing. "Yeah. Mom will be wondering where I got off to."

His chuckle is soft, genuine. "I don’t think she’ll mind." He extends his arm, gesturing for me to lead the way.

As we walk back through the quiet hospital corridors, the distance between us is filled with a new understanding, an unspoken promise. Even in the clinical, sterile environment of Haven Falls Hospital, life's surprises find their way.

As we approach my mother's room, I pause, looking up at him. "Thank you again," I whisper, not just for the assistance with my mom, but for the unexpected moment we shared.

He nods, a small smirk forming. "Anytime, Charlie."

And with a final lingering glance, we both head our separate ways, the night holding onto our shared secret.

Chapter 5

Lennox

Lennox

It's been a few days since I got discharged from the hospital. The comfort of my own bed and my home's familiarity should be a solace, but it isn't. Instead, my thoughts keep drifting back to the hospital corridors, or more precisely, to the effervescent presence of Charlene.

Every morning since, her face has been the first thing to cross my mind, and every night, it's her laugh that echoes in my ears as I drift off. I've caught myself picking up the phone several times to call her, only to put it down, reminding myself she's just my physical therapist.

But this morning, as the first light of dawn filters through my window, I resolve to act on my instincts.

The orange hue of the dawn begins to flood the sleepy streets of Haven Falls. Today's mission? Find Charlene before she completes her morning ritual. In one of our conversations during a therapy session, she'd mentioned how her day never truly starts until she's had her walk through downtown. It was said offhand, a casual remark, but I stored it away, a nugget of gold in the bank of understanding her better.

After cruising a couple of blocks, I finally spot her. Instead of her blue scrubs, she's wearing a fitted workout tank and biker shorts that accentuate her curves. With her golden hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her rhythmic strides eat up the pavement with grace and determination. I quietly admire her for a moment, her curvy form exuding a kind of strength I've grown to expect from her.

Pulling up to the curb, I roll down the window and call out, "Trade those miles for waves?"

Her head snaps toward the sound of my voice, surprise evident in her warm brown eyes. She slows down, eventually stopping a few feet away from my vehicle.

"Lennox?" she pants, eyebrows shooting up, her cheeks flushed. "What are you doing here?"

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