Chapter 1
Frankie
“W hy did I agree to this?” I asked, using my forearm to brush my hair out of my face. No matter what I did, I could never keep the little wispy pieces pulled back. I’d never even cut them. They just didn’t grow.
“Because we agreed to fix this place up before we moved in,” my best friend Lou reminded me.
The three musketeers, Myla, Lou, and Frankie were finally splitting up. Well, sort of. We were still best friends, but Lou and I had agreed to move out of the house we’d been sharing with Myla. She and Cian had finally figured out their shit, and once he’d moved in, Lou and I had decided it was time to find our own place. I loved Myla, and I tolerated Cian, but walking in on them getting down on our kitchen table had been the last straw.
“Why did we do that again?” I asked, lugging the five-gallon bucket of paint to the other side of the room.
“Because Tommy is a saint,” Lou replied, following behind with our paint rollers.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I countered, making her laugh.
“Fine, because Tommy is renting this place to us for a steal, and we owe him?”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember.” I sighed and stretched my arms over my head.
“It’s kind of perfect, right?” Lou asked, looking around the room.
The house wasn’t big, but it was perfect for us. There were two decent-sized bedrooms with bathrooms attached, a half bath for guests, a kitchen that flowed into the large living room, and the coolest part of the whole space—a fully enclosed sun porch along the back of the house. In the winter, the porch would be freezing, but in the summer, it was going to be fucking awesome.
“It’s not bad,” I joked.
Lou rolled her eyes. She knew how much I loved our new place. “We’re lucky it’s mostly just cosmetic stuff that we need to fix.
“Slap on a little paint, and we’ll be ready to move,” I added.
“And new carpets,” she reminded me as we started painting again. “When are those getting installed?”
“Day after tomorrow.” I carefully lifted the roller and started on the wall. “You’re sure you can cover half? I can pay for it now, and you can pay me back if you need to.”
“I told you I have the cash.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want you draining your savings.”
“But it’s okay for you to drain yours?” Lou asked dryly, working on the other side of the wall.
“This won’t drain my savings,” I huffed. I’d made sure of that. I’d been lucky enough to find a great job right out of college, and I lived simply. We’d split Myla’s mortgage three ways, I bought most of the things I owned secondhand, and I rarely splurged unless there was a music festival or trip that I couldn’t stand to miss. My only large purchase had been my Tahoe, but I considered that a necessity. I’d been in an accident in a small car, and I wasn’t ever going through that again. If someone crashed into me, I was going to come out the winner, assuming it wasn’t a big rig.
Well, unless I was on a motorcycle. But since I wasn’t using one as my daily driver, I considered riding on the back of one an acceptable risk.
“This is going to look good,” Lou said, taking a few steps back to look the room over. We’d picked a greenish gray color that was going to look fantastic when the light came through the windows. Between that and the new carpet, the updates Tommy had already done before he’d offered to rent the place to us, and the furniture we’d accumulated over the past couple of years, the house was going to look great.
“I’m thinking a painting over the fireplace,” I said dreamily, framing the space with my fingers. “A close-up of my face. What do you think?”
“I think you’re delusional,” Lou replied with a laugh. “Shit, I was supposed to call that guy—the one who checks out fireplaces.”
“You haven’t called him yet?” I asked in surprise. She was usually on top of things.
“Work has been crazy, and you know how things have been with my grandpa’s stuff,” she said, shaking her head. “I haven’t had time. I’ll call him at lunch tomorrow.”
“You know we’re going to want to utilize that fireplace,” I reminded her, nearly groaning as I lifted my arms above my head to reach near the ceiling. This was the last room to finish, and it had been a lot of late nights painting. My shoulders and arms were so sore.
“I can’t wait. A fire going in the fireplace, a cozy blanket, and a book? Heaven.”
“You’re so weird.”
“You know, you can stop pretending that you don’t read. You know that I know you read.”
“Not as much as you.”
“Work at it, and you’ll be at my level eventually,” she replied primly.
“At least you’re a quiet roommate,” I mused.
“Exactly. I could have a really noisy hobby. You’re lucky.”
“I’m well aware.”
We painted in silence for a while. I was lucky. Lou and Myla had noticed me when we were just kids and decided I was one of them. It hadn’t made any sense then, and it still didn’t now. Lou was genuinely sweet, quiet, calm, and rarely had a bad thing to say about anyone. Myla was outgoing, a little wild, kind, and thoughtful, even though she tried to downplay it. They were both girly. They were soft. They saw the best in people. They were both extremely loyal.
I was a tomboy. I held grudges for years. I didn’t like most people. My rough edges weren’t hiding a candy center—I didn’t have a candy center.
I had no illusions when it came to my best friends. I didn’t deserve them. We didn’t even really fit. But they’d chosen me, and I’d chosen them back, and that was that. There wasn’t anything on earth that would separate us now.
The next two days passed in a flurry of work and meeting with the carpet installers—by Friday night I was fucking exhausted as I packed up my bag to head home from the office. I couldn’t wait to see the house finally finished. Lou had called me that morning and said it looked incredible.
I nearly groaned as someone stopped in the doorway of my office, and I took my time zipping up my bag before I lifted my head.
“Oh, hey,” I said in surprise, my lips tipping up.
“Hey,” Scott greeted, leaning against the doorway. “Big plans tonight?”
“Not really.” I threw my bag over my shoulder and rounded my desk. Scott didn’t usually work in the same office as I did, but lately he’d been there pretty often. Technically, he was my superior since he was much higher in the company than I was—his uncle owned the thing—but we didn’t really have any direct connection since we worked in different departments.
I liked him. He was easygoing for a boss, and he always said hello to everyone, remembering their names and shit. I knew from experience that wasn’t always the case. Most people paid little attention to their subordinates.
“I’m moving this weekend, so it’s home to pack.”
“Moving, huh?” he asked as I locked my office. “Going far?”
“Actually, just down the street,” I replied as we walked down the hallway. “Far enough that it’s going to be a pain in the ass to carry things, but not far enough to rent a truck.”
“That’s rough,” he replied with a laugh. “Need any help?”
I glanced at him in surprise. “That’s really nice of you, but no.” I smiled to soften the refusal. “There will be plenty of big strong men to carry stuff for us.”
“Ah, boyfriend?”
“No boyfriend,” I replied. “Just family and friends.”
Scott nodded, pressing the elevator button.
We stood there in the silence, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Just as it began to feel a little awkward, he spoke again.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Oh.” I glanced up at him, startled. “Um.”
“No pressure.” He lifted his hands like he was surrendering.
“Sure,” I said after a moment. The only dates I’d been on in the last few months had been duds, and Scott was cute in a boy-next-door way. He wasn’t my normal type—a little too clean cut—but he was handsome, and he took care of himself. Plus, it would be nice to get dressed up and have a good meal that I wasn’t eating over the sink in between projects. And it wasn’t as if he was my boss, just a boss in a company we both worked for. “When?”
“Next week? I’d say Friday, but that seems really far away.” He smiled charmingly as we got into the elevator.
“I could do Tuesday,” I replied.
“Tuesday it is.”
“Sounds good.” We made our way outside. “This is me.”
“Nice spot,” he said with a teasing whistle.
“I got here early this morning,” I said with a laugh, unlocking the doors so I could throw my bag in the passenger seat. “I had my pick of the parking lot.”
“I’ll have to use that trick next week.”
“I’ll see you Monday,” I said with a smile, rounding the hood.
“Monday,” he confirmed, waiting on the sidewalk until I’d driven away.
As I drove home, I tried to get excited for our date, but I honestly didn’t have the energy. I’d be so relieved when we were finally moved into our new place. I’d been burning the candle at both ends for weeks, and I hadn’t been sleeping well even when I had the chance to crawl into bed. I’d struggled with insomnia since I was a kid, and it was re-surging with a vengeance.
It didn’t help that I’d had to spend time with Gray lately while Myla’s boyfriend was dealing with family stuff. I loved that the Aces circled the wagons when someone in the club had a problem, but it didn’t fill me with joy that it put me in close proximity to a guy I was trying to forget. Especially when I’d seen that same guy the day after we’d had surprisingly fantastic sex, standing with a woman outside my favorite restaurant, his hands all over her.
Letting out a loud scream, I ignored the woman staring from the car next to mine. I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. I hated that every man I’d flirted with since then hadn’t measured up. I hated that I hadn’t slept with anyone else because I was afraid it would confirm what I already knew—that crazy, kinky, exciting sex still wouldn’t measure up to the quickie I’d had in that clubhouse bedroom. I didn’t want to think about Gray, but I still hadn’t managed to shut that part of my brain off.
I’d somehow imprinted on him or something. No other guy compared to him. Sex with anyone else didn’t appeal. I wanted that night back, before he’d tossed me my clothes and told me he’d had fun.
Mostly, I wished things were different, and that pissed me off more than anything. Imagining any kind of relationship with Gray was pure fantasy, and I’d grown out of those in high school. I knew better.
I scowled as I parked on the street outside Myla’s house—my house for a couple more days. There were so many people parked outside there was no room for me to park in our driveway. Grumbling under my breath, I grabbed my bag and headed toward the house. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, much less a party or whatever the hell was going on.
“You’re home,” Myla called, sticking her head out of the kitchen. “We got pizza!”
“What the hell is everyone doing here?”
She looked at me in confusion. “They’re here to move you into your new house,” she replied slowly. “Remember?”
“No, we’re supposed to move tomorrow,” I corrected, my stomach sinking.
“We’re doing it tonight,” she argued. “We just talked about this on Wednesday. Remember, I told you that more people were available tonight, and you said that was fine?”
“Right,” I said, trying not to wince. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I was sure the conversation had happened exactly like she was describing. I’d just only been half listening. Jesus, I was so wiped. I just wanted to crawl into bed. “My bad.”
“Good news is there are enough of us here, we’ll probably be able to get you all moved and set up, and you can sleep in your new room tonight!” She smiled a little nervously, and I felt like shit.
No matter how often Lou and I had reassured her that we wanted to get our own place, she still felt guilty we were going because she’d moved Cian in. And yeah, that was the reason—but there wasn’t any resentment about it. It was time. They deserved their space to build a life, and I was happy as hell for my friend. She’d been mooning over Cian for years.
“Awesome,” I replied, smiling at her. “I’m just going to go put this down.”
She nodded and disappeared again. I let my shoulders slump. I really, really, did not want to move tonight. Just the thought of lugging boxes of random shit to the new place made me want to cry. I shuffled down to the door to my room and stopped abruptly in the doorway.
The dresser was gone. The boxes I’d had along the wall were gone. Even the curtains were gone. The only thing left was the four-poster bed that I’d found at an estate sale, but that had already been stripped of the linens and was currently being dismantled.
By Mick and Gray.
“I’m calling the cops,” I said loudly, clutching imaginary pearls. “I’ve been robbed.”
Mick laughed. “You know better than that. Someone robs you, you call the club.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be helpful since the club’s robbing me,” I pointed out.
“Rumi and Jamo carried your dresser over already,” Mick said with a grunt as he and Gray leaned the mattress against the wall. “Someone else grabbed the boxes.”
“Multiple someones,” I said, moving farther into the room. “There were like fifteen boxes in here.”
“I grabbed a couple,” Mick confessed. “I didn’t want to carry Lou’s boxes, so I rushed in here.”
I chuckled. “I guarantee her boxes were heavier.”
Gray finally looked at me, his brows furrowed in question.
“She’s got a thousand books.”
“At least,” Mick agreed.
Gray nodded in understanding.
“Aren’t you guys going to eat?” I asked, still loitering awkwardly just inside the room. I wanted to help, but there wasn’t anything for me to do.
“We’ll grab something as soon as we’ve got this moved,” Mick replied, shooting me a grin as he lifted the bed slats off the frame.
“Give me those,” I said instantly, reaching for the pieces of wood before he could hand them to Gray. “I’ll carry those over to the new house.”
“You sure?” Mick asked, handing them over as he pulled them up. “How many of them do you want?”
“All of them.”
“They’re heavy.”
“They’re not that heavy.”
“You’re so full of shit,” he said, pausing with the last one in his hands as my arms began to shake. “You should’ve at least put the bag down.”
“I’m fine,” I gritted out. “Would you give it already?”
As soon as he’d laid the last piece of wood on top of the others I spun and hurried back out of the room. The bed slats didn’t feel as heavy as long as I was moving, and thankfully the front door was wide open, so I sailed right through it. By the time I got to the new house, I was sweating and trying not to let it show that my arms felt like they were going to fall off.
“Damn, Frankie’s been lifting weights,” another one of Myla’s cousins called as I hurried through the house.
“You know I could kick your ass, Brody,” I called over my shoulder.
“You wish.”
I dropped the bed slats against the wall in my room and shook my arms out as I went back out to the living area. “I know,” I replied, smiling at him. “But I won’t because you’re helping me move.”
“You owe me,” he said, following me back out of the house.
“I’m going to hand out IOUs when we’re finished,” I assured him as he elbowed me. “Thanks for coming over to help.”
“No worries,” he replied with a shrug. “There were so many of us here it went pretty fast.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, pausing halfway down the street.
“Pretty much done, now,” he said with a shrug, moving on without me. “All that’s left is your bed and the couch.”
“No fucking way.” I jogged to catch up. “When the hell did you guys start?”
“Gray, Titus, Cian, and Bas started around noon, I think. Me and Mick got here around two. Everyone else trickled in after that.”
“I feel like such an asshole,” I groaned. “I didn’t know everyone was showing up so early, or I would’ve gotten off early.”
“I think Myla did that on purpose,” Brody said, grinning. “Lou didn’t get home until like fifteen minutes before you. I think My was trying to make things easier for you guys.”
“She’s so annoying when she’s thoughtful,” I complained.
“The worst,” he agreed.
We had to quickly move out of the way the minute we’d reached the porch as Mick and Gray carried out the headboard of my bed, and Bas followed them out carrying the footboard.
“Anything left?” Brody asked.
“Titus is carryin’ the bed rails,” Bas replied as he hefted the footboard higher in his arms. “He’s right behind us. Then just the couch.”
“Holy shit, seriously?”
“You’re welcome,” Bas said with a smile as he carefully stepped down the stairs.
“You’re the best, Bas!”
“I know.”
“This is insane,” I said, watching as Titus carried my bedrails out.
“I draw the line at putting anything away,” Titus teased. He was sweaty but still smiling. “You’re on your own for that.”
“I think that’s fair,” I joked. “I can’t believe you guys moved us.”
“It’s not that big a deal,” Brody said, shoving me toward the doorway once it was clear. “There were like ten of us here for a while. Thanks for having all your shit packed in advance. Helped move things along.”
“That’s why Myla was up my ass about packing.”
“Probably,” Brody agreed.
“I was not up your ass,” Myla argued as we reached the kitchen. “But you always procrastinate.”
“Hey, man,” I argued. “It works for me.”
“Well, aren’t you glad you listened to me for once?” she asked cheekily.
“Can you believe this shit?” I asked Lou as I pulled Myla into a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“You’re welcome,” Myla whispered back.
“I’m just grateful that I repacked my suitcase last night, and my underwear wasn’t hanging out all over the room when they came in,” Lou joked. “That could’ve been embarrassing.”
“Yeah, because you’re so messy.”
“I feel like I won the lottery,” Lou said, grinning. “I moved two boxes. That’s it.”
“We owe them,” I said, glancing toward the living room.
“You can pay us back for the pizza and beer,” Myla said easily. “That’s all they asked for.”
“I paid for the pizza and beer,” Cian countered. “And neither of you are paying me back.”
“I think we can afford pizza and beer,” I argued.
“Still not takin’ your money.”
“We’ll see,” I mumbled as I dropped into a kitchen chair.
“Oh, I threw your bedding in the wash this morning,” Myla said, setting a beer in front of me. “It’s in a garbage bag in your new closet.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but it’s nice to climb into clean sheets. You guys won’t have your washer and dryer for a few more days, right?”
“It’s being delivered on Tues—shit.” I squeezed my eyes closed in frustration. I’d just told Scott I was free that day.
“That’s only four days away,” Lou reminded me. “I think we can make it four days.”
“I know.” Lifting the beer to my lips, I took a long pull. “But I completely forgot they were getting here on Tuesday, and I made other plans.”
“What other plans?” Myla asked curiously.
“A date.”
“With who?”
“A guy from work.”
Lou wrinkled her nose. “Who? I think I’ve met everyone you work with.”
“Not Scott.”
“Who’s Scott?”
“Ooh, Scott,” Brody sang, stuffing a huge bite of pizza in his mouth.
“He usually doesn’t work in my office.” I waved them off. It wasn’t important. I was going to have to cancel. The prospect didn’t bother me much.
“I can make sure I’m home,” Lou said easily.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“What are we talking about?” Titus asked, wiping at his face as he entered the kitchen, Mick and Gray behind him.
“Frankie’s double booked on Tuesday,” Myla answered, boosting herself onto the counter.
“It’s fine. I can reschedule.”
“Don’t cancel your date,” Lou ordered. “I’ll meet the appliance guys.”
“Date?” Titus asked. “With who?”
“Scott,” Brody sang again.
“None of your business,” I said at the same time.
“Who’s this Scott guy?” Mick asked darkly.
“You don’t know him.”
“They work together,” Lou added.
“Not your best idea,” Mick said with a huff, pushing his way through the group to grab a piece of pizza off the counter. “You’ll still have to see him when you break his little heart.”
“No one is breaking any hearts,” I argued.
I was hyper aware of Gray standing at the edge of the kitchen watching all of us bicker. He rarely said much, that was just his way, but I knew that he heard everything. I didn’t think he cared I was going on a date with someone, he probably barely even remembered that night in the clubhouse, but it still made me squirm that he was listening to them giving me shit.
“You’re gonna date this guy for a couple of weeks—” Titus mused.
“If that,” Myla chimed in.
“And then you’re going to ghost him,” Titus finished. “That’s what you always do.”
“I do not ghost them. I tell them that it’s been fun, but it’s over.” The moment the words were out of my mouth, I felt the skin on my chest start to bloom with color remembering that was almost exactly what Gray had done to me. I tried to think of anything else in order to stop the blush.
“I don’t know why you don’t just date someone you actually like,” Brody said, kicking my chair.
“Finding men I actually like is a struggle,” I joked.
“You love me,” Bas announced as he joined us, squeezing my shoulder.
“You’re the exception, Sebastian,” I replied, leaning into his hand. I wasn’t lying.
Bas was one of the best people I’d ever met. He was kind and protective and funny as hell. He was also crazy about Lou but had never made a move, and it drove us all crazy.
“I want to know more about this Scott guy,” Mick interrupted.
“Want in one hand and shit in the other,” I replied, leaning back in my seat. Myla’s brothers might see me as a little sister, but they were not going to insert themselves into my love life. I could handle myself, thank you very much.
“Gray, stop lurking and come get some food,” Myla ordered, pointing to the pizza.
“You didn’t have to buy me dinner,” he replied quietly, making his way over.
“Cian bought it,” I corrected, trying to keep my tone light. “He’s grateful you guys got us out of his hair.”
“Not true,” Cian countered. “I told you guys to stay.”
“If I never saw your bare ass again, it would be too soon,” Lou replied.
“It was a good ass,” I added conversationally. “But not one we’re supposed to be looking at, you know?”
“It was average,” Lou argued. “But nearly impossible to escape.”
“There was a lot of bare ass happening,” I agreed. “Do you have a problem with bedrooms, Cian?”
“Oh my god, you guys,” Myla griped. “It was one—two times.”
“Two?” Lou cackled.
“Try four,” I muttered.
“This conversation is veering in a direction I don’t want to go,” Mick announced, throwing his empty beer bottle in the recycling. “I’m leaving.”
“Aw, Micky,” I sang. “You don’t want to hear about Myla and Cian—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he ordered, pointing at me. He made his rounds, kissing each of us girls on the top of the head. When he got to me, he ruffled my hair.
“Thanks for all the help,” I said, tilting my head back to look at him.
“Welcome. Be careful with this new guy.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re not into him—”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.
“It’s obvious.”
“He’s nice!”
“Since when do you like nice?” he asked, waving as he walked away.
“I’m going home, too,” I announced, surging to my feet.
“I’ll go with you,” Lou said cheerfully. “You guys are the best. Thank you so much.”
“Seriously, we owe you.” I looked around the room. All the men were various levels of sweaty and tired, but there wasn’t a single one who looked unhappy to be there.
“You don’t owe us shit,” Bas said distractedly as he grabbed a piece of pizza. “We’ll bring that couch over in a few minutes.”
“I’m going with you,” Myla announced, hopping off the counter.
“Baby, you still live here ,” Cian reminded her.
“Very funny. I’ll be back in a bit.”
We were halfway to the new house when Myla spoke.
“Is it really weird that I’m freaked out you guys are going to live somewhere else?”
“We’re halfway down the block.” I pointed to the little blue house.
“And across the street,” she added. “It’s weird.”
“You’re going to love it.”
“What if Cian is boring?” she asked, threading her arm through mine. “You know he’s not going to go thrifting with me.”
“Then you’ll walk over and ask us,” Lou replied.
“Or call,” I said, bumping Myla with my hip. “There are these things we have called phones.”
“Shut up,” she grumbled. “Let me feel my feelings.”
“What are feelings?” I deadpanned.
Lou and Myla went straight to the kitchen, but I ambled through the house when we got there. We were going to need a dining room table at some point and little things like a garbage can and cleaning supplies, but our home was taking shape. Once all of the boxes were unpacked and the couch took up the huge empty space in the living room, it would feel real.
I’d never liked moving. We’d done it so often when I was a kid that nowhere had ever really felt like home until I’d moved in with Myla and Lou. I loved my dad, and he’d done his best—but his best hadn’t been great. We’d always stayed in the same school district, thankfully, but we’d moved every year or two my entire childhood.
Setting my bag on top of my dresser, I walked slowly through my room. The guys had set up my bed on the wall across from the doors that led to my bathroom and closet, and it looked great there. The wall opposite the bedroom door had two big windows that already had blinds installed, thanks to Tommy. Before anything else, I walked over and made sure they were locked. You could never be too careful living on the ground floor.
I’d painted the walls a warm cream color, almost almond, and it looked incredible with my vintage furniture. Once I’d hung the artwork I’d collected over the years and unpacked all of my things, the room would look just how I’d pictured it.
The boys had put most of my boxes in the walk-in closet, so they’d be out of the way when they moved the furniture, but someone had put my garbage bag of bedding on the shelf, so it was easy to find. I pulled it down as I listened to Lou and Myla laughing in the kitchen.
I teased Myla about being anxious we’d moved out, but I understood it. Things were going to be strange for a while. We’d been living together since college and spending most nights together at Lou or Myla’s houses all through middle school and high school. It was weird to split up.
I lugged the bedding over to the bed, and I was halfway through putting the bottom sheet on when Gray stepped into my bedroom.
“Brought the couch over,” he announced, walking over to the opposite side of the bed. Without asking, he tugged on the sheet and tucked the corners around the mattress.
“Thanks for the help today. You didn’t have to pitch in.” Every time I saw him, I hoped I’d notice something that would put me off, but there was never anything that did. He was just as hot today as he’d been that night at the clubhouse.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked curiously as I unfolded the top sheet and threw it out over the bed.
“Why would you?” I countered.
“Many hands make light work,” he said easily, catching the opposite side of the sheet so he could help me center it.
“You don’t have to help me make the bed, too,” I joked halfheartedly. “I can easily do this myself.”
Gray shrugged. “I was already standin’ there.”
“Okay,” I said with a sigh, straightening. “Why are you in here?”
“What?”
“Why are you in here making my bed? Why did you help us move? What is this?” I wasn’t interested in playing little games or playing the will-they-won’t-they game. We’d watched Cian and Myla do it for years, and it had been frustrating for everyone, not just the two of them.
Gray just looked at me.
“What?” I snapped. “Speak.”
He squared his shoulders and gave his head a little shake. “Helped you move because Brody was roundin’ up people at the shop, and I happened to be there. Didn’t have plans, so I thought, what the hell? I’ll skip my workout and carry some furniture. Makin’ the bed because I was here, and I was taught that just standin’ there when someone’s makin’ a bed is rude.”
“Oh,” I muttered quietly.
“I forget how young you are,” he said with a short chuckle.
“I’m not that young.”
“All right.”
“How old are you?”
“Too old for you.”
“That’s not what you were saying before,” I commented snarkily.
He raised an eyebrow. “Provin’ my point.”
I glared and floundered for something to say. “Who teaches their kid that it’s rude to let someone make their own bed?”
“My ma,” he replied with a smile. “Grab the blanket.”
“It’s a quilt,” I argued weakly as I moved toward a box along the wall marked bedding . “And I need a different one first.”
“That one’s already out.” He pointed.
“Yes, but I have a system.” Ripping open the top of the box, I found the large blanket I usually kept on my bed and carried it over. “This one goes first.”
“That’s a lot of blankets.”
“It’s two.”
“You need two?” He caught the blanket as I tossed it on the bed and pulled it snug.
“It’s actually three,” I replied. “One of them gets folded at the end of the bed.”
“Why?”
“In case I get cold in the middle of the night.”
“This house has heat. I can hear the furnace.”
“Are you really giving me shit for how many blankets I use?” I paused, looking at him in exasperation.
“Get the quilt,” he ordered.
“I need the weight,” I said, reaching down to grab the old quilt I’d found at a random pop-up thrift sale at a grange hall.
“The weight of the blankets?” he asked curiously.
“Yes. I like it when my blankets are heavy.”
He nodded in understanding as he helped me center the quilt and tuck it down at the end of my bed.
The whole process was intimate, and I tried to shake off the feelings it invoked. This guy wasn’t for me. Full stop. He’d made it perfectly clear that our little interlude was just one of those fun things that wouldn’t be repeated. I reached for the garbage bag and pulled out my pillow and the three pillowcases folded inside.
“You only got one pillow?” he asked easily, glancing over to the open box.
“You really don’t have to help me with those.”
“They in the box?” He started in that direction.
“Yes,” I murmured in defeat, following him over.
“How many pillows you need?” he asked in surprise, handing one to me.
I had to admit it was kind of funny as he pulled them out one by one like the box was Mary Poppins’s bag.
“Two for sleeping, two full-sized for decoration, a bolster, and two throw pillows.”
“No wonder Mick wanted to carry this one,” he said with a scoff. “Thing’s literally full of fuckin’ pillows.”
“He’s no dummy,” I agreed, tossing the pillows on the bed and reaching for a pillowcase.
“No one needs this many pillows.”
“Not everyone decorates like a serial killer,” I shot back. My mouth snapped shut as soon as I’d said it. Bringing up that night wasn’t a good idea.
“Told you I don’t live there.”
“Right,” I mumbled. God, why was he still hanging out in my room? The whole thing was odd. Me and Gray didn’t spend time together. It wasn’t our thing. Bas would hang with me. Brody would. Hell, even Myla’s brothers would. But Gray and I didn’t have that kind of friendship.
“You don’t use these,” he added, gesturing to the throw pillows.
“No, but they look pretty,” I countered sweetly.
“Fair enough.”
“What, no comeback about women being crazy?” I asked dryly.
“You know the woman who raised me, right?”
“Yes, I know Lily.”
He nodded and paused for a moment, like he was considering his words. “She’s soft . Softest person I’ve ever met.”
“That’s a good description,” I replied quietly.
“But she’s also one of the strongest.” He licked his lips. “Guess I never understood givin’ women shit for the things they like. My ma likes flowers and…pretty shit. You know.”
I smiled at the way his words were a little stilted. Flustered.
“Doesn’t mean she can’t throw down,” he said, setting a freshly pillow-cased pillow carefully against my headboard. “When I was a kid—you might’ve heard this story—before she and my pop were together, a couple of guys showed up at my aunt and uncle’s house. Ma was watchin’ me and the boys, and she sent us into the safe room. Hid us. The fucks ended up settin’ fire to the house.”
I inhaled sharply. I’d heard plenty of hair-raising stories but not this one.
“Ma was like twenty years old or some shit. Young. They knocked her around, knocked her out, and she woke up to smoke so thick you couldn’t see shit. She somehow made it to the safe room in Uncle Cam’s office, keyed in the code to unlock it, and got us out. Handed us through a window to someone, because by then the club had seen that the place was on fire.”
“Jesus Christ,” I murmured.
“Can’t convince me that women are crazy or weak or any of that shit. In my experience, Ma’s not the exception. She’s the rule.” He reached up and ran his hand down the back of his head and neck. “So, like what you like. Make your shit pretty . Doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I think this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak,” I joked awkwardly.
“Don’t get used to it,” he replied.
Our eyes met for a long moment, and my stomach swooped like I was on a roller coaster.
Neither of us said goodbye when he turned and strode out of the room. I finished settling my pillows how I liked them as my heart raced.
Having any kind of conversation with Gray had been a mistake I needed to avoid at all costs in the future. It just made me like him more , and I already thought about him more than I should.