“It’s been more than a century since I’ve given my blood to a human,” he starts, as if thinking out loud, “so I can’t be certain, but I’m more than willing to try it again.”
“And risk a second bout of memory loss? No, thank you.” I’ll just have to live with the blanks for now.
Squished in the small space, I angle myself past stacked boxes and bags and other old things that should have been tossed out. It’s a sea of lost things. Somehow, though, I spot what I’m looking for. There are a few boxes marked ‘HENRY’ in big black handwritten letters. Gray watches from a few feet back while I open the tops and try to find some clothes. After my third box, I come across what I’m looking for.
“A-ha!” I pull out a couple pieces and load them into my arms. Henry was an ‘of average’ height kind of guy, but his shirts would fit fine, if not a little baggy.
When I hand the clothes off to Gray, his lip curls with disgust. “They smell.”
“Because they’ve been in a box.”
“They’re not exactly… my style,” he mutters.
“Let’s be real.” I point a finger at him. “Your style died out about eighty years ago.”
He grumbles insensibly and takes the clothing. They’re nothing special, but beggars can’t be choosers. At least with this, he has more than what he did before, even if they are just old tees and a couple flannels.
"Look,” I say with a little more sympathy, “I’ve got some savings, so I can take you shopping. My friends own a boutique in town. I’m sure they’ll have exactly what you’re looking for.”
He perks at the mention of shopping. “When?”
“Soon. I have to get some time off, if I can.” I’ve got the time saved up, but I was hoping to use that for a quick trip to Florida. Granny moved there after Henry’s passing, and I’ve been dying to go ever since. But given these special circumstances, I’m sure I can spare a little of what I have to help a vampire in need.
Can’t exactly have him walking around looking like this.
Although, I would be the last to complain about his get-up. There’s something innately hot about a guy in a crop top.
“Try them on,” I encourage him.
Without another word, he shoves the clothing back into my arms, then swiftly pulls his shirt up and over his head. I press my lips into a line so thin, I’m sure they’ve disappeared into my face altogether.
Sweet Mother of Hell,he is gorgeous.
I don’t have the habit of eye-fucking anyone, given my job and its nature, but I can’t stop myself from taking all of Gray in. He’s more toned than I expected, not as bulky as Dax, but the muscles are there. They move under his silk-smooth skin, subtly defined by every little movement. He’s lean with broad shoulders, and aside from the luscious little ‘v’ that dips down into his sweats, he also has scars. So. Many. Scars.
He takes a shirt from the pile and slips it over his head. It’s a simple black shirt, and it hides all of the loveliness of his body, which is disappointing.
“I will admit, it’s better than the other one.” He tugs at the collar with a long finger. “But not by much.”
“Why don’t I throw these in the wash for you, then? It’ll make a world of difference if they don’t smell like musty boxes,” I say.
“Thank you.”
With that, I turn to the washer and dryer. They’re old, but I’m more than glad they still work. Reliable appliances on my wages is a need, not a want. I make a decent living, and since the house is already paid off, I really don’t have too much to pay for.Still, there’s no anxiety like money anxiety, and if one of these bad boys goes, I’m out a couple hundred dollars or more for something brand-new.
“Do you live alone?” Gray asks suddenly.
“I do, yeah.” I drop the clothes into the washer and measure out some detergent. “Until a year ago, I was living with my girlfriend.”
“What happened?”
“We broke up.” I shrug. Who knew that after working so hard to move past it, I’d be faced with Ronnie all over again. She’s everywhere suddenly. “When we did, I moved out and back in with my granny for a bit. She left for Florida, though, so it’s just me now.”
Looking back now, a lot of terrible things happened in a short amount of time that altered my life completely. While Ronnie and I were on the rocks, Henry got sick. He was always in poor health, but this time it was bad. He was in and out of the hospital for a few months, and I was with Granny for most of it. I remember being torn between the three of them, afraid to choose who to spend more time with. Henry was the only father I had ever known, and he was dying. The choice was obvious.
“Breaking up sucked,” I say, taking a deep breath in between. “My granny’s boyfriend, Henry, the one whose clothes you’re wearing, he was really sick and that sort of strained things between me and my girlfriend.”
When I wasn’t at the club, I was at the hospital or spending time with him and Granny at home while he recovered. When his sickness got worse, and his stints in the hospital increased, it was clear that Henry wasn’t going to get better. Between that and the constant pressure I faced with her, about quitting the club and following her around like a lovesick puppy, I just couldn’t stand the stress. Dancing took my mind off things, so I couldn’t just give it up to play secretary. In those last few monthsof his life, all I wanted to do was sit at home, eat Granny’s cooking, play Uno with Henry, and grieve.
