Shadows of Revenge

13. Close Proximity

Becky leaned against the doorframe of Freen's apartment, watching as the other woman moved about the kitchen with a practiced ease. The soft clinking of utensils and the faint aroma of something delicious filled the space, and Becky couldn't help but smile. Freen had insisted she stay for dinner, and of course, Becky had found another excuse to stick around.

Her latest excuse? Her apartment was getting fumigated—a lie, but a necessary one. She needed to be close to Freen, to learn more about Sarah, to understand this woman who had so much pain buried beneath her calm exterior. But there was something else, too. Something that tugged at Becky every time she was around Freen—a warmth, an attraction she hadn't anticipated.

"You look like you're thinking too hard," Freen said, breaking through Becky's thoughts. She glanced up with a smirk, her hands busy chopping vegetables for their dinner. "Careful, you might hurt yourself."

Becky rolled her eyes, stepping further into the kitchen. "Oh, please. If anyone's going to hurt themselves, it's you. You didn't even wash the tomatoes properly." She teased, but there was a softness in her voice.

Freen shot her a playful glare. "You're lucky I'm cooking for you at all. If you want clean tomatoes, wash them yourself." She pushed the cutting board towards Becky, her fingers brushing against Becky's hand for a moment longer than necessary.

A slight jolt ran through Becky at the contact, but she quickly recovered, taking the cutting board with a small grin. "Maybe I will," she said lightly, though the air between them seemed to thicken with an unspoken tension.

For weeks now, Becky had found herself making excuses to be around Freen. It started innocently enough—asking to crash at Freen's place after a late dinner, claiming it was easier than going home. Then, somehow, it became a regular thing. Becky would come over, they'd share a meal, and she'd stay the night. Freen hadn't questioned it, but Becky could feel something shifting between them.

Small moments turned into prolonged glances, their conversations laced with teasing and light touches. But it was more than that. Becky was starting to adore Freen—her quiet strength, the way she carried her pain without letting it consume her. And the more she learned about Freen, the more Becky's guilt gnawed at her. She needed to know more about Sarah's death. She needed to understand why Freen kept her distance emotionally, even as they grew closer physically.

As Becky rinsed the tomatoes, she decided to test the waters. "So, I've been thinking..." she began, her voice casual.

Freen raised an eyebrow, already sensing the shift in conversation. "Uh-oh. That sounds dangerous. Should I be worried?"

Becky laughed, but her tone was careful as she spoke. "I mean, we've been spending a lot of time together. And I can't help but wonder... have you always been this guarded?"

Freen paused for a moment, her knife stilling mid-chop. Becky noticed the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes flickered with something unreadable before she responded. "Guarded? Is that what you think?"

Becky shrugged, trying to keep her tone light. "I just mean... you never talk about your past. About Sarah." She watched Freen's reaction closely, hoping the casual approach would work.

Freen's expression remained neutral, but Becky could see the walls go up. "I told you, Becky. I don't talk about Sarah because I've mourned enough. I'm trying to move on. Isn't that what people do?"

Becky's chest tightened. She had expected Freen to deflect, but it still stung. "Yeah, I get that. But... don't you want to find out who did it? Who killed her?"

Freen's eyes darkened, her voice lowering as she answered. "Of course I do. But you don't always get closure. Sometimes, you just have to accept that the answers aren't coming."

Becky frowned, her mind racing. She wanted to push further, but she also didn't want to push Freen away. Instead, she forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, I'm here now. Maybe I'll stick around until you do get your answers."

Freen smirked, her earlier tension fading slightly. "Stick around, huh? Are you planning on moving in now?"

Becky grinned, leaning against the counter. "Well, now that you mention it... your apartment is way nicer than mine. And you cook. So, I might just take you up on that."

Freen chuckled, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

But Becky could see the amusement in Freen's eyes. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to enjoy Becky's presence as much as Becky enjoyed being around her.

Over the next few weeks, Becky's excuses to stay at Freen's apartment became more frequent. At first, it was innocent—work was too busy, her place was too far, the streets were too dangerous at night. But soon, it became a habit. Freen didn't question it, and Becky wasn't complaining. They fell into an easy routine, sharing dinners, watching movies, and having late-night conversations that sometimes drifted toward serious topics, but never stayed there for long.

It was during one of those quiet nights, when they were both lounging on Freen's couch, that Becky found herself staring at Freen's profile, her heart fluttering in a way that felt all too familiar. Freen was beautiful, but it wasn't just her looks that drew Becky in. It was her strength, her resilience, and the way she carried herself with quiet confidence, even when she was clearly struggling.

Becky shifted slightly, trying to focus on the TV, but Freen noticed her movement and glanced over. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Are you staring at me again?"

Becky's cheeks flushed, but she quickly recovered, flashing a teasing grin. "Can you blame me? You're kind of hard to ignore."

Freen chuckled, turning her attention back to the screen. "Well, if you're going to stare, at least be useful. Grab me a drink from the fridge, will you?"

Becky rolled her eyes but got up to comply. As she opened the fridge, she couldn't help but think about how comfortable this had all become. It was like they were living together without ever acknowledging it. And as much as Becky loved the closeness, there was still that nagging voice in the back of her mind—Sarah.

She needed to know more. She needed to understand why Freen was so hesitant to talk about her, why she seemed to be running from her own grief. But every time Becky tried to bring it up, Freen deflected, using humor or casual flirting to change the subject.

"Do you know what's on the menu tonight?" Freen asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Becky glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

Freen's smirk widened. "It's me and you."

Becky's heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up. "You are ridiculous."

But beneath the teasing, there was something else—a tension, a desire that neither of them had acknowledged yet. Becky could feel it in the way Freen looked at her, the way their conversations seemed to dance around the real issue. And she knew, deep down, that this was more than just friendship.

As Becky handed Freen her drink, she decided to try again. "You know... I'm not going anywhere. You can trust me, Freen."

Freen's expression softened slightly, but she quickly masked it with a playful smile. "Who said I don't trust you?"

Becky hesitated, unsure how to respond. But before she could find the words, Freen leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low murmur.

"You ask too many questions, Becky. Sometimes, it's better not to know everything."

Becky swallowed, her heart racing. She wanted to push, to demand answers. But something in Freen's eyes made her pause. Maybe she wasn't ready to know everything just yet. Maybe, for now, it was enough to simply be close to her.

And so, they continued their dance—flirting, teasing, and avoiding the deeper truths. Neither of them was ready to face what was really happening between them, but it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

...........