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“Absolutely not,” I agree.
He makes a face. “Party pooper. Sorry, angel. I’ll eat an extra one just for you.”
“Thanks, Ransom.” She blows him a kiss. “You’re such a giver.”
I plate up the lunch I made for her and bring it over to the table we’re using for now, until we find one we like better. Malice and Ransom take their argument somewhere else, going back to work, and Willow leans up to kiss me.
“Thank you. This is way better than a chili cheeseburger. You take such good care of me,” she murmurs.
The words she said to me in the parking lot filter through my mind, and I cup the back of her head, brushing my lips against hers once more.
“I don’t know any other way.”
42
RANSOM
My brothersand I all told ourselves that we didn’t give a shit about having to leave our old warehouse behind when we fled Detroit with Willow. And it was true. Compared to losing the girl of our dreams to a monster, losing our home was nothing.
But damn, she really does know us well. Because this new warehouse, designed specifically for the four of us?
It’s fucking perfect.
Vic and Willow have been picking out paint colors—although she isn’t allowed to help with the actual painting—and switching out the temporary furniture with better stuff that we plan to keep for a while. It’s starting to look less like a weird empty space that we live in and more like a home, which feels fucking amazing.
I’ve been working on the garage part of it, getting it set up just the way we want it. New tools gleam from the shelves and drawers along one wall, and new lifts and jacks and shit are installed and ready to go.
I’ve been working on a bike to replace my old one—and the one that got shot up by Ethan’s old crew—fixing it up and overhauling it to run just the way I like. The chances of this one getting sprayed with bullets or burned are pretty low, so I feel like I can invest more energy into it.
I’ve got music playing, nodding along to the beat as I polish the sleek frame of my Ducati, in my happy place.
Well… it’salmostmy happy place. There’s one thing that could make it better.
I wipe my hands off on the rag and then toss it into the dirty rag hamper before heading into the living area part of the warehouse.
Malice and Willow are on the new couch in the large, open space. My brother is holding a book open, and Willow has her head in his lap, both of them reading from the same page.
I smirk at the sight they make, shaking my head.
“I can’t believe you’re actually invested in these romance novels now,” I tell Malice, waggling my brows. “You got them for Willow, but now they’re kind of for you too, aren’t they?”
Ever since we settled into our new place, it’s become something the two of them share. They trade books back and forth or read the same one together, doing something called buddy reading that seems to be mostly Malice reading the dirty parts out loud to make Willow squirm.
Malice just gives me a deadpan look.
“What can I say?” he says in a flat voice. “I’m a romantic at heart.”
I belt out a laugh, although the funny thing is, he’s not lying. No one but me, Vic, and Willow will probably ever know that though. It’s a secret he hides well from the rest of the world.
Shifting my attention from him to Willow, I jerk my thumb in the direction of the garage. “Hey, do you wanna go for a ride with me?”
She perks up at that prospect, sitting up on the couch. “Always.”
“It’s chilly out,” Malice warns. “So you shouldn’t go too long. And take a coat or something.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Vic. Or Mom.”
Willow crawls onto Malice’s lap, grinning at him. “You’re so protective,” she teases, running her hands over his chest. “I bet you want to bundle me up yourself, don’t you?”
