June, Reimagined (64)
Max barked at her side. Lennox burst into the kitchen, where June was grabbing at her ankle, wincing at the pain.
“What the hell are you doing on my floor, Peanut?”
“Falling down your stairs,” June said, trying to be casual and funny when she really wanted to cry from both pain and embarrassment.
Lennox gently picked her up. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” June stood, without putting any pressure on her foot.
“No, you’re not. What in bloody hell were you doing upstairs?”
June forced nonchalance, but the longer he held her, the more unnerved she became. “I just came over to take Max for a run.” She shook out of Lennox’s grasp.
“I didn’t hear the door open.”
“You were playing guitar. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I couldn’t find the leash. I thought it might be upstairs.” The lie came out smoothly, and June thought she had gotten away with it, until Lennox pointed to the leash hanging by the back door.
“That one?”
“I swear that wasn’t there. And if you must know, Scotland has a huge staircase problem. I don’t think I’ve seen a flight of stairs that’s ADA compliant. And your lack of wheelchair ramps is criminal.”
“Is that right?”
June pointed at the stairs. “These steps are horribly small and crooked. And no railing. There is no way they’re up to code.”
Lennox crossed his arms. “And what code is that?”
“The . . . Homeowners . . . Care . . . and Decency . . . House . . . Code.” She pressed on. “You know, for someone who’s constantly worried about other people’s safety—to a problematic level that probably needs medical attention and a good therapist—I’m surprised you’d allow a staircase like this in your house.”
“I’ll take your remodeling suggestions into consideration, Peanut.”
“You know, I could sue you,” June said. “For a lot of money. You’re lucky I just twisted my ankle and didn’t break my neck, or you might have a big lawsuit on your hands, mister.”
“You’re quite threatening for a wee lass who’s breaking and entering.”
June held up her house key. “I didn’t break into anything.”
“Would you just sit your bloody arse down and let me look at your ankle?” Lennox forced June into a chair and pulled off her sock. When his skin touched hers, she shivered. “Does that hurt?”
The ache in her ankle was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. June wanted to fling herself on Lennox. She wanted to apologize for being an idiot. She wanted all of him to cover all of her. But then she saw, on Lennox’s forearm, right below the bend in his elbow, the tally-mark tattoo. She had wondered about it so many times. Five tallies. Angus said Isobel had waited five years for Lennox. A coincidence? Or had Lennox permanently marked his body for another woman?
June pulled her foot out of his grasp. “Like I said, it’s fine.”
Lennox got a first-aid kit from his cabinet and wrapped a bandage around June’s foot and ankle. “Ice it and wear this tight ’round your ankle for a few days.” When he was done, he put on June’s sock and shoe, the laces loose to allow room for the bandage and her swollen ankle. He stood in front of her.
June needed to leave, but suddenly she couldn’t force herself. Shouldn’t she fight for Lennox? Beg him to stay, to pick her? But what did that matter? She would only humiliate herself further. He clearly wanted to forget her. Erase her.
June stood from the chair, gritting her teeth against the pain throbbing up her leg.
“I’ll help you home.” Lennox moved to wrap his arm around June’s waist.
But she couldn’t handle him so close. A hollowed heartbreak had settled in her bones, and she backed away. “I’ll manage.”
Lennox didn’t insist. He let her walk out the door, alone. It took everything June had not to limp, not to look weak. To keep her head up and her back straight, even in the midst of pain.
On her way to her room, June ran into Eva.
“Back already? In need of more condoms?” Eva joked.
In the hallway, she could smell the lavender candle burning in Eva’s room, but June was anything but calm. She pushed past Eva.
“Wait, June.” Eva gently touched her arm. “I thought . . .”
“You were wrong,” June said. What she meant to say was I was wrong, but she was so hurt, her mind so cloudy and angry, that she needed a victim, anyone but herself. “Stop trying to make my life into one of your stories. Just stay out of it.”
TWENTY-SIX
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Your RSVP is needed!
Are you attending the Josh Merriweather Invitational Golf Tournament and Gala sponsored by the Sunningdale Boosters?
WHERE: Sunningdale Country Club
WHEN: May 31, tournament starts at 7am, evening gala to follow.
This event is almost sold out. All proceeds benefit the Josh Merriweather Athletic Scholarship Fund. Please RSVP by clicking the link below.
We hope to see you there!
The noise of three children was louder than any concert June had ever attended. When one’s snotty nose was wiped, the next one spilled milk. When one wanted to watch television, another pulled an entire shelf of board games to the ground. And no matter the situation, one was crying.