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Love The Kid.
I really do.
He’s…The Kid.
But when it comes to cars and chicks that’s exactly what his twenty-five-year-old ass still is.
A kid.
Too excited, too eager, too stupid to possess any sort of self-preservation.
Which is what I’m here for.
Whether he likes it or not.
“Care to fucking move, so I can get some coffee, or do you need to make hard eye contact with me while you describe your prom night in great detail?”
An exasperated exhale precedes him grabbing one of the clean cups near the machine and filling it up. Once’s he’s finished mixing in two spoonfuls of sugar, he walks it over to me like some sort of peace offering for thinking with his dick instead of his actual brain. “She’s running from something, Nolan.”
“I know.” Switching the mug from his hand to mine is easily done. “And the last thing I need is whatever’s chasing her, hurting you.”
“You mean us.”
“That’s what I said.”
Kipp quirks can eyebrow yet doesn’t verbally argue.
He knows better.
He knows there isn’t a goddamn thing on this planet I wouldn’t do for him.
It’s why he keeps the place stocked with cold beer, fresh Twinkies, and soft fucking toilet paper.
Outside of this apartment, he knows I’ve got him.
Doesn’t matter what he needs.
Doesn’t matter what the problem is.
I know it?
I solve it.
Plain and simple.
Doesn’t matter how complicated or violent or fucking bloody the shit is.
Making sure he’s alright is all that matters.
Inside the apartment?
I guess he tries his best to reciprocate.
He makes sure I get enough to eat.
Enough sleep.
Enough coffee in my cup and on the occasion, pussy on my face.
