The Muse's Undoing

He raises his brows. “Badass, huh? You don’t think the cane is emasculating?”

“I think it’s elegant,” I tell him.

“I think it’s hot,” Ravenna says.

I scowl at that, and Fischer grimaces. “Raven, Matthew and I have a lot of catching up to do. And my son’s on the way.”

“Am I interrupting boy talk?”

“A little.”

“Fine. Fine.” She gives him another kiss on the cheek and sits up, leaving the couch to return to the bedroom where she closes the door.

I give him a look that probably reads as judgmental because it probably is.

He gets defensive. “Like I said—I ran into her—shit happened.” He puts an arm on the back of the couch and closes the gap between us again, shifting to face me. He pulls his leg onto the couch, too, and our knees touch. “Nicole has her boyfriends, and I’m single now. Don’t judge me.”

“I would never.”

“You sure? I’m getting a vibe.”

I reach out and tuck a wild strand of hair behind his ear. His silvery eyes soften at the gesture before I realize I’ve never done that before. I’ve wanted to more times than I can count, but I never let myself. “No judgment,” I tell him, able to let it go easy enough.

To my surprise, he catches my hand before I draw it back and hangs onto it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” I drag my gaze away from his intense silvery eyes. “How’s your leg?”

He shrugs. “Some days are better than others. Feels fine right now.”

“Were you not able to keep up with your PT?”

“They said it’s all expected changes. But now that I’m back, I’ll see what the doctor says. Hopefully I can get it to stop locking up.”

“Would massage help?”

“You offering?” he asks with a grin.

“I could learn. I got pretty good with all the exercises they prescribed you back in the day.”

“You did. And you had a nice touch, too.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I didn’t go hard enough on you.”

He laughs.

The bedroom door opens and I let go of his hand. Ravenna emerges wearing a white tank top, no bra, pink pajama shorts, and still no shoes. Assuming that’s how she showed up here last night, I can see why Fischer had trouble sending her away at the door. Although, he could have invited her… I don’t want to think about this.

Once again, she comes between us, giving him a kiss inches from me, complete with a porn-worthy moan before she turns to me looking like she wouldn’t mind taking us both on. “Nice to meet you officially.”

I give her a flat smile. I’m in charge of exactly two things when I’m on duty at the Eastmoor: the door and discretion. She seems to be assessing whether I’ll abide by the second rule in my off hours. Hopefully my feigned disinterest reassures her. She caresses Fischer’s face, managing to fuck up his hair again. “Call me.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” he says.

“Anytime.”

She pads down the hall and finally the door shuts behind her. Fischer’s wiping his lower lip while I fix his hair again.

“Jesus. Sorry,” he mumbles.