Page 84 of Petite Fleur

I gulp, nodding in understanding, but my focus stays on my plate. I can’t look at him right now, which is disappointing since before this, we were actually having a nice evening.

We were talking and even laughing.

It was nice.

Key word, was.

“Do you understand me?” He asks firmly.

I sit my fork down and brush the few crumbs off my fingers. “Yes, may I go?” I ask quietly.

When Leon tries to reach for my hand, I pull away and put my hands in my lap, making him sigh roughly. “Go on.” He answers.

This night could have been a turning point, but now I don’t feel safe here anymore.

Chapter 31

Leon Aldon

I don’t understand what went wrong here.

We were talking, joking, and laughing. I was learning so much about her that I couldn’t learn from a distance. Like how her nose scrunches up when she laughs, how she wiggles in her seat when she takes the first bite and realizes it tastes good, or the way she mouths the words she says like one of those anime shows that are translated to another language.

It’s cute.

She's so much more appealing and stunning from this close.

And she's hilarious and sarcastic, but she won't cuss. Not even the small words that they allow people on TV to say, but, of course, I screwed that up by bringing up her finals.

Fuck.

Her mood shifted so easily, and her smile faded until it was completely gone. The light in her eyes dimmed. She even gave up on her dinner. I wasn't trying to upset her. Maybe I should have waited to tell her about her finals, but I thought I was doing the right thing by giving her time to study.

I cleaned up dinner and packed away the leftovers. She seemed to enjoy the meal. Hopefully, she will eat it again tomorrow while I'm at work.

I've been leaving leftovers in the fridge for her, but she has free reign of the house to make whatever she wants.

I hope I come home someday to see that she'd made us both dinner. We could eat it together, talk about my day and hers, and she could tell me how the garden is looking and what new things she has planted.

When dinner is over, she could sit between my legs on the couch while she works on her schoolwork and I work on my patient notes. Maybe we would have a few colder nights when we could light the fireplace and let that be the only light source in the house. It sounds nice. It sounds perfect, but I don't know if it will happen now.

I take my time cleaning up and take a seat on the couch. Normally, I'd sit in bed and work on notes while Maeve slept, admiring her while I worked. It calms me down after a long day to work on my notes with a hand on her back. I get to breathe in her sweet blueberry scent while also feeling her warmth; it makes my day instantly better to be near her.

I don't exactly think Maeve wants to see me right now, and I don't blame her. I was an asshole, but at least this gives me the chance to rest my leg.

I take my prosthesis off, sit it on the floor beside the couch, and kick my sore leg up onto the chase.

It's swollen and bruised and even the bone hurts. I need a break, one longer than the few clients who allow me to sit at my desk for their appointments.

I'm hoping that soon, Maeve will feel comfortable enough here that I won't have to worry about her running, so I can take my leg off more often. Right now, she hasn't even realized I'm an amputee. I wonder what she'll say about it. Will she judge me?

It makes me wonder what she'll say when I tell her everything my mother did to me—all the experiments. I'm scared she'll want to run screaming when she sees the monster my mother created.

I work on my notes for so long that I feel myself slowly fall asleep, but I fight it off as best as I can. I only realize that I have failed when I wake up to the sound of throwing up.

I jump up and realize that it’s dark out. How long have I been asleep?

Fuck, there goes the vomiting again.