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“What’s going on?”
“Thank you,” I say ignoring him. “For everything. For helping me fix things.”
He shakes his head. “Tell me what’s going through your head right now. You look off.”
“Do you want me to pay rent?” I ask awkwardly.
He obviously wasn’t expecting that and seems to fumble for words.
“Damn, Katie, would you stop trying to offer me money?”
“So, even if I didn’t have that bank account, you’d still let me stay with you? Until… I figured things out at least?”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Do you need me to just remind you every day? Because we’ve had this discussion multiple times. I’m not interested in your money.”
“Then,” I hesitate and turn to him. “Can I just give that money back?”
“Back to who?” He growls. “To the man that raped you or to your father who got paid because of your pain?”
His words are like a slap to the face. His anger falters as my face pales and he sighs softly.
“You don’t want the money,” he says and it doesn’t seem like a question but a realization.
I shake my head. “It’s just a reminder.”
He nods. “I understand. But you could use it for school or something, though. Make something good come out of all the shit.”
I eye him and nod. He's right.
Make something good come out of all the shit.
“Can we go by the bank?”
He looks confused but doesn’t argue with me. He brings me to the credit union holding my money and I fidget as Ax takes a seat while I wait in line. The teller at the window seems like she wants to ask if I’m being held hostage when I tell her I want to drain myaccount. I chuckle awkwardly and explain where to send it. She smiles softly to me as she hands me the receipt and envelope.
“Have a wonderful day, Miss Randell.”
Ax eyes me from the couch he’s sitting on as he scrolls through his phone. “All set?”
I nod and follow him back to the car but before he starts driving I hand him the envelope. He eyes it curiously and opens it. His face gets tense and unreadable.
“Katelyn—”
“I want something good to come from it. I don’t want it.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “You can’t do this.”
“It’s already done. That’s just the receipt.”
He rubs his jaw and puts the paper in the middle console.
“Please, don’t be mad,” I rush. “I know I’ve complained about wanting to work and have my own money but—”
I’m cut short as his hand cups my face and he strokes his fingers through my hair.
“You’re incredible, Katie.”
Katie.
