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Chanel
“Lucas’s been gone all day,” I say to Brody, who sits next to me in the bed.
“He’s a busy man.” There’s a touch of admiration in his reply, and I am unsure if I like that fact or respect him for showing it so openly.
“How do we know him?” I ask. “I want to hear your version.”
“I got a job to help out, to stop you from doing something you hated, and well, you didn’t approve.”
“Why?”
“Because it was in that part of town.” He tries to hide a wince, but I catch on.
“Did you stay employed?”
“For a little while, but eventually, it ended. And now here I am, addicted to everything even after you tried to stop me.”
I reach for his hand. “I love you, and it’s not your fault. It’s in our blood to fuck up. But you can overcome this, I know you can.”
“I go to rehab tomorrow. Lucas is paying for me to go. It’s a nice facility,” he says, smiling.
“Does he do that, pay for things for you?”
He chuckles.
“I tried to give you a new phone once, and you threw it out the window.” Lucas’s voice comes from the door. Brody and I both turn to see him standing there with a few shopping bags in hand. “I’m cooking,” he states, then off he goes to do his thing.
“He cooks… a lot.”
“For you, yes.” Brody gets up off the bed and walks out. “See ya later, sis. I’ll call when I can.”
I get up and head to the kitchen. My eyes take in Lucas as he leans over the counter, rolling something between his hands, his back tense through his tight dress shirt.
“I’m feeling better today, no head-spins. That’s a good thing, right?” I say, and he looks over his shoulder to give me a once over.
I’ve managed to shower and change my clothes. I am wearing on an old dress shirt that was packed in my things and a pair of daisy dukes.
“Yes, and you look incredible.” He smirks as heat rushes to my cheeks before he turns back to whatever it is he’s cooking.
I can’t help but ask, “What are you making?” as I hop onto the counter behind him.
“Pasta.”
“Is that your favorite dish?” I ask.
“No, it’s yours.”
I pull on my bottom lip, knowing he’s right. “You enjoy cooking?”
“I enjoy watching you eat.” Lucas’s back is still to me.
“Why?” He stops what he’s doing and turns to face me, picks up a cloth, and starts wiping his hands. I pick up a bottle of water and bring it to my lips.
“I enjoy things that make you moan.”
Oh, good God, I cough and splutter water all over the counter and somehow manage to apologize while choking. “Did you really just say that?” I ask, barely stuttering the words out, in complete shock and a throat that’s gone as dry as the Sahara Desert, even though I have just swallowed more than my share of water.
“I did.”
