Page 40 of Sins of Leo

“You have a computer?” She’d not seen one.

“Nope. We can either go to the office or library to use one.”

“Library sounds nicer.” She frowned. “How many stairs to get there?”

“A few.”

She sighed. “Guess I could use the endurance training if you’re dragging me to a jungle.”

He grinned. “I guess I shouldn’t mention we’ll have to carry our supplies.”

The remark brought a groan. “I take it Tower doesn’t have a magical tent to take care of us?”

“Don’t worry, Buttercup. I’ll be there supporting you.”

It was more reassuring than expected.

CHAPTER 12

Oddly,despite the vivid dream of his daughter, Leo didn’t once stare longingly at the liquor cabinet. Usually, when he woke, he walked straight for the strongest thing he had on hand.

However, talking about it, for the first time since the nightmares began, actually helped. Ruth didn’t call him crazy. Ruth didn’t tell him to forget about his kid. She advocated accepting his grief and not letting it overwhelm.

What a concept.

She also questioned their deaths, something he’d done until Aries told him to stop. In the boss’s defense, Leo went a little nuts searching for a sign Kylie and Olivia lived. He even bugged Aquarius almost daily to keep running facial programs on all the accessible security video footage captured around the city. Leo kept their apartment for a year after in the hopes Kylie would return. Staked out all the places she used to like: hair salon, donut shop, thrift store. He’d have surveilled her family and friends if she’d had any.

The day he finally accepted Kylie would never walk through the door, he’d drank so much he woke in an alley, a knife sticking out from between his ribs, with no idea what happened. Theincident led to him finally moving back home—only his grief, his regrets, and his dreams followed.

And what did the big strong warrior do? Leo let those destructive emotions control him.

Still did.

Every move he made was through that wallowing lens of self-pity. It took Ruth pointing out the illogic of his own flagellation to recognize it.

It had been more than five years. Either he needed to finally jump off the top of Tower, or smarten the fuck up and allow himself to live again.

The epiphany removed a weight from his emotionally heavy shoulders, while the lack of drinking took much of his puffy inflammation away. He felt better than he had in ages; playful, too, hence why when Ruth muttered about a lack of elevators when they headed for the library, he swept her into his arms.

“You do know my legs work,” she pointed out, her arms draped around his neck.

“As does your mouth, but given you’d probably bite or slap me for my solution to quieting it, I’ll stick to annoying you in other ways.”

She gaped at him.

He grinned.

“What has gotten into you?” she asked.

“A smacking dose of common sense and reality, which I have you to thank for.”

“I’ve barely done a thing.”

“You shrinked me, and it worked.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, but keep in mind, we have a ways to go,” she cautioned.

She said ‘we.’ It had a nice ring. His pleasure came with a reminder, though. She’d cautioned against him being attracted to her. Claimed it was some kind of patient-doctor thing.

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