Stealing Her (Covet 1)

Or the helpless feeling in my soul when I realized that I was making headway for a man who hated me, and I was falling for a woman who was and would always be his.

Chapter Twelve

ISOBEL

I woke up to texts.

Several texts from Edward asking about how Julian was feeling and if he was coming into work. Was the man insane?

Edward: Where is he? He should be here by now. We have a company to run.

Edward: He isn’t answering me, his phone might be off. Tell him he needs to get his ass in the office now.

Edward: This isn’t a joke.

Edward: WHERE IS HE!

Finally, I responded.

Isobel: I just woke up, it’s only seven in the morning. He nearly died, cut him some slack. Besides, he’s never even taken a vacation! He’s in a lot of pain, and last night I heard him moaning in his sleep.

Okay, so he was actually doing a lot better and it had been three weeks, but I felt protective. For the first time in months, I didn’t want to see Julian walk out that door, I wanted to stay and hold hands with him on the couch, I wanted to feel that thrill in my stomach when he smiled at me or teased me.

God, it had been so long since he’d done any of that.

Edward: I don’t care if he’s missing his arms and legs, a promise is a promise, please relay this message to him, I’ll expect him and you within the hour.

Isobel: Me? Why me?

Edward: I don’t explain myself to you. Wear white.

With shaking hands, I dropped my phone back onto the bed and went in search of Julian. I saw him the minute I walked out of the master suite, or I saw skin, a lot of tanned skin, because he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Light bruises marred his back and arms.

I felt my stomach lurch when I saw all the scars covering him; they’d healed fast even if they still looked angry and red. I’d been harsh these past few weeks. Somehow, after a fitful sleep and relaxing with him on the couch I realized I was the one acting crazy for once, not him, yet I had good reason to wait for the other shoe to drop. He’d been everything like the old Julian, the one I had fallen in love with—better actually.

He moved effortlessly around the kitchen, and my stomach grumbled as the smell of bacon filled the air. He looked over his shoulder and called, “Want a cup of coffee?”

See? Normal. Julian always had coffee ready for me in the morning come hell or high water.

Everything was starting off the same, like a typical work morning.

So why was I so disappointed?

He was going back to work.

I was going back to volunteer at the hospital he didn’t want me working at.

The last three weeks hadn’t happened.

I was on the verge of tears when I answered. “Sure. Yeah.” I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail and walked into the kitchen.

Without me even asking, he handed over a black coffee cup with a soft-blue bear in the middle, one of my favorites because it reminded me of simpler times when we used to live on campus and order cheap Chinese. It was one of his first presents to me before his trust fund, before his father gave him a job, before everything.

It was all he could afford.

A black Starbucks mug.

“Cream or sugar?” he asked, his green eyes locking on mine, cream in one hand, two packets of sugar in the other.

I took both packets and nodded to his left hand. “Just a little cream.”

He poured it in and turned around again. “I figured you’d be hungry so I made us some breakfast.”

“I swear your new love language these past few weeks is feeding me.”

He froze, and then flashed me a huge grin. “Are you complaining about your bacon? Because if you are . . .” He started pulling the plate away like he was going to put it back in the cupboard.

I swatted his hand. “Don’t you dare.”

And then he grabbed mine and kissed my fingertips. “So much better than your morning smoothies, right?”

“Right,” I agreed, happy that he was smiling so much, that things might be back to normal routinewise, but that his attitude was still the same. Relaxed.

“Did you get summoned too?” he said after a few more seconds.

“Yeah. It’s time.” I was silent after that.

He started piling food onto two plates then handed me a fork. “He can wait, life can wait. I almost died and I want breakfast, preferably while sitting next to you. If he can’t handle that then he can go to hell.” He grinned and then chomped down on a piece of bacon.

And my heart, the one I thought would never heal again, thudded wildly against my chest.