“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” she nods, “just thought you’d like to know that. You might scare other people, but I like who you are. I see who you are.”
I stare at her, drunk and honest. A lump of emotion builds in my throat that I have a hard time swallowing down. That one hit its mark, right in my heart. The Beast doesn’t even stir. He doesn’t need to when it’s just me and her. He rests. Something he’s never done.
“Thanks, Red,” I mumble, knowing this is the nicest she’ll probably ever be to me. I want to cherish it for a moment, even when her eyes flutter shut again. “Have a good sleep,alright?”
She says nothing, just breathes deeper and smothers her face into Stinky’s fur. I watch her for a second, mesmerized by how complex a woman she is. She has so much on her shoulders, and she’s so fucking guarded, but she’s just a vulnerable girl underneath all of it, clinging to the scraps of her childhood that she had to leave behind before she was ready.
I don’t know why I do it. She’s asleep and nobody is here. But still, I lean forward and press my mouth to her forehead.
When I leave, I shut her bedroom light off and close her door, but I don’t go very far. I lock the front door and park my big ass on her small couch. She’s wasted, and this place is a walking episode ofDateline. There is no way I’m leaving her alone like this. She feels safe with me, so I’ll make sure that she is.
Reaching across the side table to grab a pillow from the loveseat, I bump my hand against her empty plate in the process, smothered in ketchup, and knock over a stack of neatly piled papers.
Cursing, I turn my phone’s flashlight on and aim it at the floor.
My heart sinks to my fucking ass.
I see my name over and over on these pages. I see my past staring up at me. Here is my mugshot from when I was twenty. There’s the one from last summer. I slowly move the pages around and my throat suddenly feels very, very dry.
I don’t know why this feels like a slap in the face, but it does.
This isn’t the kind of shit you can just grab off the internet.
No, this looks like it came directly from the police. This is my file, stowed away somewhere until it can finally be used against me. I’m proud of her. This is the kind of stuff that women should do to protect themselves. You never know what someone can be hiding.
But still, it stings.
I reorganize the papers and put them back on the table, face down like they had been. When I finally get somewhat comfortable on the couch, I stare up at the ceiling and wonder why, if she felt so safe with me, she got that snivelling little fuck to run a background check on me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
arden
I stumbleout of bed because I smell bacon.
I jolted awake with the fear that I had tried to cook something last night and forgotten it on the stove. But when I heard rustling and someone singing softly to themselves, I remembered it was a faux date night last night. I got drunk. On tequila. Carter brought me home.
Apparently, Carter didn’t leave.
I’m not used to other people being in my house.
I’m also not used to being hungover on tequila.
I groan, my temples pounding with the pain brought on by the cursed adult juice.
I emerge into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes. He’s still wearing the same clothes from last night, unpacking a bunch of food from take-out containers like he’s navigated his way around this apartment hundreds of times. It unnerves me how at home he looks.
His gaze snaps up to meet mine. “Morning, drunky pants.”
I wince, his voice sounding a bit too loud for the current state of my brain. “You stayed over?”
He slows, a flash of uncertainty on his face. “Yeah…I hope that’s okay. You were drunk, and I didn’t want to leave you.”
I lean against the wall, squinting at him through the light. “Today isn’t one of your days, though.”
“Ah, you’re mistaken. This isn’t ‘faux boyfriend’ Forkerro in your house, unboxing your breakfast. This is ‘real friend’ Forkerro.”
