Page 62 of Gang of Roses: Rebel

“That’s a lie.”

“You stole my favorite hoodie.”

“I borrowed it.”

“Three years ago.”

She flashed me a shameless grin.

“Semantics.”

I shook my head and headed toward the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I came back downstairs wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Rebel was exactly where I left her. Only now she had her boots kicked off and was halfway through another bottle of water.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

“Very.”

“Good to know breaking into people’s houses relaxing for you.”

She flipped me off, and I grinned. Something about seeing her sitting there made the house feel less empty. I hated admitting that. Especially after the day I’d had because of her ass.

“Dominoes?” she asked.

“You trying to lose some more money?”

Rebel laughed. “Crow, please. The only thing you beat is your chest.”

I grabbed the domino box from the shelf and dropped it on the table. “Keep talking.”

She rubbed her hands together. “That’s my favorite hobby.”

We started setting up the pieces. For a few minutes, neither of us said much. It wasn’t awkward. Never had been. Me and Rebel had known each other for so long that silence didn’t need to be filled. When she looked up and saw me staring, she frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then, why are you staring?

I raised an eyebrow. “Naw, I wasn’t staring.”

“You definitely was.”

I smirked. “Nah. I was trying to figure out how somebody can shoot up a car at noon and be playing dominoes by dinner.”

A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Talent.”

“More like insanity.”

“Tomato. Tomahto.”

I laughed and shook my head. Yeah, Rebel was absolutely crazy. The problem was I couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t sitting somewhere in the background of my life causing trouble. Since neither one of us felt like calling it a night just yet, we threw on some old-school R&B, kicked back on the couch, and let the music fill the room. I unscrewed the cap off the bottle of bourbon, took a long sip, then handed it to Rebel.

Without saying a word, she tipped the bottle back and took it to the head like it was water. I couldn’t help but laugh. Sometimes I forget she was only five-foot-six because she damn sure drank like one of the fellas.

For the next hour, we talked about everything and nothing. We laughed about the stupid shit we’d done growing up, argued over who had the better motorcycle, and reminisced about people we hadn’t seen in years. It felt good and easy. That’s how it had always been with Rebel. Then the mood changed. The smile she’d been wearing all night slowly disappeared. She stared down at the bottle in her hands for what felt like forever and didn’t have any words. That wasn’t like her.

“You good?”