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I open my eyes and I’m in Kingston’s room, alone. I smile, remembering him holding me last night. I stretch and roll out of the comfy bed, heading for the bathroom to quickly shower.
Once I’m dry, I pull out a pair of panties from the bag Thorn packed, putting them on, pulling my hair into a messy bun.
I throw on a pair of sweats and t-shirt of King’s before heading downstairs.
I like wearing his clothes. They make me feel safe and they’re comfy.
I don’t know how much longer we will be staying here, but it’s good that Thorn packed a few things. I knock on his door, but he doesn’t answer. He must already be up.
I smell coffee and start to head down the stairs to the kitchen when I hear voices, heated voices.
I hear King and Lane going at it.
I listen like a creeper and almost cry out when I hear a fist hit a face. It must have hurt, I thought I heard a bone break. Then again, I don’t really know what that sounds like.
“I’ll get everything I want. This, your car, your girl, will all be mine,” and then the door slams shut.
I wait a few minutes, wondering what Lane meant by that. Thorn is asking King if he’s okay and that snaps me back to reality.
How dare Lane think I’m property!
Who does he think he is yelling at my little brother?
King and Thorn try to look out for me and King gets hit. What is Lane’s problem?
He thinks he’s God, he’s not.
I’m not after Kingston’s money. If that was the case, I would have jumped him at the restaurant, crawled up him like he was a tree and marked him.
I like him because he’s sweet, kind, caring, and real.
I fix my face, I don’t want them to know I was listening and head into the kitchen, acting like nothing is wrong.
“Morning, fellas,” I greet them.
“Morning,” Kingston mumbles, his back to me. I know he doesn’t want me to see his face. I’m going to have to at some point.
“We having peas for breakfast?” I ask.
“Ummm, no. I took these out by accident,” he says, handing them over to Thorn who puts them back in the freezer.
“Kingston, can you turn around?”
He gets up and pulls out a pan for bacon, keeping his back to me, “I’m cooking.”
Nope, not happening. He is not going to ignore this or me.
“Thorn, can you go to the apartment and get my tip jar and maybe some extra clothes?”
“I brought you some clothes,” he hedges.
“I know, better to be safe,” I nod. I’m hoping he picks up that I want King to talk to me.
I turn to face my brother and he finally gets it.
“Yeah, I’ll go,” he says. King tosses him some keys, not mine and he’s out the door.
“I got you clothes for today,” he turns his back on me again.
