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"I like your couch," she said, running her hand over the charcoal-colored material. "This is one of those that they pass off as a sofa bed too, right? Like it lays down flat."
"Think it said something about that."
She turned to me, brows drawn together. "You're fixing up and furnishing, but you don't seem to care about any of it."
"I don't know how long I'm staying. Don't want to drop a ton of money into some other man's property."
"I used to say that. For years. Then I finally caved and started making the place how I like it."
"You have a nice home, Autumn," I agreed, giving her hip a squeeze.
It was homey, but not frumpy. She had nice floors, great counters, carefully selected furniture. But there were personal touches too. She had a couple collages down the hallway of her and her sister at birthday parties, concerts, on holidays, vacations. Peyton's books were lying around wherever she left them. There were blankets piled on a spare chair for movie watching.
It was comfortable.
You could settle in there.
I didn't want to settle in here.
I guess that was the difference.
"It's coming along," she agreed, smile proud. "That darn bathroom is my next project."
"I can help."
"You can?" she asked, brows drawn together.
It was right then that I realized, while we knew a lot about personal preferences, the things we enjoyed and were passionate about, there was still quite a bit she didn't know about my past.
"Loansharking aside, we all had legit businesses. My brother Mark has a construction company. I pitched in when he needed extra men on a job."
"What were your businesses?"
"Have a car rental place, a gas station, and a tutoring center - one of those chain type places."
"That is an interesting array of things."
"Pops always advised us to get into things that have an almost guaranteed chance of success. Everyone needs fuel, especially at the far side of town where my place is. It's the only game over there. Car rental is big around here. The tutoring center was a bit of a gamble, but it seems to be paying off well enough." More than. People would scoff about the passive income I had coming in from those three businesses combined, and here I was, planning to give them all up.
"Have and is."
"Sorry?" I asked, brows drawing close.
"You said have and is. Present tense. You still own those businesses?"
"Technically, yes."
"Technically?"
"I plan to sign them over to my family, but I have to work out the kinks of that. Ryan has obviously been taking care of things since I've been away. I got paid every month when I was inside."
"Why would you give all that up?"
"Because it's the past."
"And you can't have any ties to that anymore," she concluded, understanding, but if I wasn't mistaken, not exactly approving the mentality.
"Something like that, yeah."
She was quiet for a minute, seeming to mull something over. "Okay, there's no delicate way to put this," she started.
"I'm fine with indelicate, sweetheart. I just spent six years in prison. Rude was the norm."
"Okay. So you have three successful businesses that have been going strong since you went away. You are driving a brand new off-the-lot truck. So why..."
"Am I living in this dump?" I finished for her, smile big.
"Ah, well, yeah."
"I have my old apartment sitting just as I left it."
"But your family knows where that is."
"Exactly."
"You're really not going to see any of them?"
"I saw Hunter yesterday," I admitted, not knowing why I would. It was going to open up a dialog about something that I didn't want to discuss.
"Oh," she said, eyes going keen. "That makes sense then."
"I don't want it to happen again," I told her, hand going to her jaw, running my fingers along it.
"Well, I do," she said, shrugging. "Well, I mean. I don't want you getting that upset because of family stuff again," she clarified. "But I like bossy-Eli. He's kinda hot," she added, smile devilish.
My cock stirred at that, making me need to take a deep breath. "Turn for me," I demanded softly, pressing her hip to show her what I meant. She did, settling her feet on the ground between my legs, her ass on the tops of my thighs.
My hands moved out, grabbing the material of her shirt, and slowly dragging it upward. She took it from me as it got high, pulling it fully off.
She was right.
She healed fast.
The marks that had been raised like welts, and so red they were almost bloody, had flattened out, and were a much more subdued shade of red, not raw and painful-looking.
Still marks.
Still pain I had etched into her skin.
But so much better than it was.
"See?" she asked, leaning back into my chest. "Almost all better. Tomorrow, it will look like nothing happened."
I should have been focusing on her words, finding some solace in them, reassuring myself that I hadn't lost complete control.
