"Seriously? Did you just give me the 'It's complicated' line?" shot back her companion.
Helena arched an eyebrow and cast a sidelong glance at the woman to her right. She was nothing if not conflicted about the agent sitting beside her. She had sincerely tried to put Myka out of her thoughts when she first came to Boone and was moderately successful in doing so. But over time, thoughts of the Warehouse agent had slowly crept back in. The small town did not offer a multiplicity of distractions and Helena found herself with far more time on her hands than could be managed practically. Much of that was spent sitting pensively in the town's only diner, doodling on a napkin or writing in her journal, and sipping truly horrid tea. During those times she indulged herself in every moment she had ever shared with Myka—every surreptitious glance, every intentionally brush, every detail of every story, and she replayed them on an infinite loop in her head. She had tried to occupy herself with work but the town needed only a part-time medical examiner and…
Helena was speaking again, in mid-thought, her response beyond her control.
"Perhaps a better query would be 'what is your relationship with Nate at the present time?' and given the events of the last few days, the answer would appear to be that there is none to speak of."
She was turning her ring now as she tried to organize her thoughts. Myka watched her fiddle nervously.
"And how do you feel about that?"
Did I really just say that? What am I now, a therapist?
She realized that despite the tone she had expected to deliver the question in, it had come out imbued with a real and heartfelt concern for the still broken woman she sat beside. Angry and jealous or not, she cared more about what Helena was going through than she did about her own petty frustrations, and Helena heard only the intended tone because of their ability to communicate—not so much in words, but more in subtext, half tones, and facial expressions.
"I don't care a fig for him."
Her Victorian turn of phrase was almost comical in the situation. When she turned her substantial powers of observation on herself, she realized that this was ultimately the truth. Nate was nice enough but it was Adelaide whom she loved and she knew that Myka understood that, even expected it of her.
"Would it be fair to say that you are unattached then?" teased Myka, seizing upon the change in mood, especially because she was more than a bit embarrassed by her blustery invasion of Helena's space.
"I'm not sure that 'unattached' is the right term for what I am. After all, my darling, if you'll recall, I just declared my love to someone less than five minutes ago. I rather suspect that the term 'attached' could be readily applied to yours truly, pun absolutely intended."
Silence.
It stretched on for seconds while the heartbeats piled up in Myka's chest. She had no idea how to respond to what was ostensibly Helena's second offering.
And then she did.
"So, what do you suggest we do about this?" asked her porch step companion as she stood and began to smooth her rumpled suit jacket too vigorously.
"I wasn't kidding about not going back in there." Myka threw a nod to the house behind them and held out a hand to help Helena to her feet.
"There is a little diner downtown. I could show you..." came the response as she rose, prolonging the contact with Myka's hand a split second beyond what was truly necessary.
"We could talk. Perhaps something that's long overdue."
Helena's eyes were finally and irrevocably fixed on the taller woman. Even in her boots Helena found herself looking up into the agent's gentle face and straining to see whether her admission had simply blown by Myka like a gust of wind or if she had been as struck by the author's words as the author herself had been. She was surprised, really, that she had let her governor slip for just an instant and that the emotion had tumbled out seemingly of its own accord. The feeling had always been there, she thought, from even the earliest times. This was no case of affection growing with time and nearness—this was pure and unadulterated, an instant connection with what Helena took to be her soul mate. She had held back as best she could, covered the pangs of need with a thin veneer of innuendo, and hoped that Myka could sense the real river of emotion running far beneath the still façade.
Myka was smiling at her now. Not the goofy and uncomfortable grin of their earlier goodbyes, but the smile of someone finally happy to have been eased of a heavy burden.
Helena led the agent down the steps towards the rental.
Myka's hands plumbed the depths of her pockets and she took a sudden interest in the pavement in front of her, slowing her stride as Helena guided her to the passenger side of the car. But Myka abruptly stopped in front of the car, blocking what was certainly meant to be a chivalrous act on Helena's part—the proffering of an open door. She turned and leaned back against the window glass, her slouch bringing her more or less to the same height as the slight beauty before her. Helena pulled up short, not anticipating her agent's move and found herself closer to Myka than she feared would be comfortable for her companion.
Were it not for her natural feline agility she might have fallen into the agent. Before she could react to the accidental proximity, Myka had drawn Helena to her, her hands on the Brit's waist over the thin leather jacket. The gasp which escaped Helena bore witness to the incalculable odds against such a thing happening. Helena was quite sure that she was misinterpreting the events which were unfolding for her in slow motion. Surely she had indeed fallen into the agent and Myka had caught her, selfless as always. Soon she would laugh and brush off her clumsiness, but in the moment that should have happened, Myka had leaned down and was now warming her forehead against Helena's.
She spoke in a voice barely audible to the woman whose form just grazed her own.
"Can I ask you another question?"
Before Helena could reply, Myka continued, afraid that the other woman might deny her simple request.
"Can I kiss you?"