13. Italian cold cuts with a side of douchebag – Seven
13
ITALIAN COLD CUTS WITH A SIDE OF DOUCHEBAG
SEVEN
A urora didn’t leave in the middle of the night like I thought she might.
I know because I couldn’t fucking sleep after everything she told me. The girl had it rough. And not just with this Jesse fucker, but with everything she had to endure before him. I couldn’t imagine the foster care system would be a safe place for someone with a face like hers.
By dawn I assumed if she were going to run away she’d have done it already, and by nine in the morning I knew where Jesse worked, who his friends were, the town where he was born, and even where he bought his six-pack of bud every night before heading home. I also predicted the hour of his death, and figured I was only off by anywhere from twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
What I should have been doing while using all of Atticus’s super fun and highly illegal surveillance programs was getting myself good and fed. I fucking forgot that it’s Wednesday. One of three days every week that Atty has us fasting until one in the afternoon. He insists its good for us, but tell that to my rapidly dropping blood sugar levels and steadily fucking rising impatience.
From the back windows, I can see Aurora still netting leaves from the pool. I don’t have the heart to tell her there’s no need. Atticus bought a robot pool vacuum and it’d have done the job for her within the hour. But she’s only out there because she doesn’t want to be in here. I can’t blame her.
“Is she still out there?” Eli comes up behind me, peering out the window with a sigh as he leans a forearm against the glass to watch her. “I still think I should talk to her.”
I shake my head. We already talked about this. Aurora needs to feel in control. “And I still think you need to wait for her to come to you.”
From the corner of my eye, I see his jaw tic as he clenches his teeth. Knowing Elijah, every second she avoids him is another second spent in his own personal hell. He hates conflict. But he hates being the guilty party even more.
“You’re probably right.”
“I am.”
“Atticus is making lunch.”
I twist to look at him and find the tension still clear in his expression. In the knot between his brows and the flat line of his mouth.
He and Atticus had it out last night, so the air is thinner between them, but it still isn’t clear.
In the end, Atticus got what he wanted at Eli and Aurora’s expense and he knows damn well it was shitty of him to do.
There was some good that came out of it, though. Eli cleaned his studio spotless. That’s where I found him after my chat with Aurora. A zombie with a fucking broomstick.
At least he let me help him.
I was going to have a word with Atty myself but Eli wanted to talk to him alone. By the shouting I heard coming from the studio, I knew he was doing a damn good job of letting him have it without my help.
“How’d it go with Atticus last night?” I ask.
Eli shakes his head. “He knows he was wrong, but…” He sighs. “I’m still fucking angry about it, Sev. He should’ve asked. He should’ve fucking waited until I was ready.”
“He should’ve,” I agree. “But when has Atticus ever been patient?”
“This was different. He knew—he fucking knew how it would affect me. But, honestly, I think I’m more mad at him for sending Aurora to do his dirty work. She could’ve got hurt, and I…”
I nod as he trails off.
He would never have been able to live with himself.
There isn’t any fucking excuse, which is why I chewed Atticus’s ear off about it again this morning before the house woke up just for good measure.
He really does seem to get how badly he messed up—how much worse it could’ve been—but it doesn’t change the fact that he did it. I love him like he’s my own blood, but I wish he’d think a little more before he does shit that might affect the rest of us.
“Are you glad it’s done, at least?”
The studio has been in shambles since not long after we finally got Eli back.
He drops his head. “Of course, I am.”
And that’s the rub, isn’t it? If Atticus hadn’t forced him, Eli might never have been ready. When we were finally done in his studio, there was a conflicted peace in his crumpled stare instead of the ever-raging war where he was both enemy and ally.
I grip his shoulder. “Come on. I don’t know about you but I could eat a whole damn horse.”
Eli lets me tow him to the kitchen, where Atticus has all the ingredients out for his famous Italian cold cut sandies, Eli’s favorite lunch.
I toss Eli a Gatorade from the fridge and grab one for myself, earning a sharp look from Atty since it’s still five minutes to one, but he’s smart enough to keep his trap shut for once.
I’m still guzzling it back when we hear the kitchen door open and Aurora steps through with Ellie on her heels. She freezes just inside the doorway, her keen jade eyes flicking first to Eli and then to Atticus’s back where he’s bent over the counter, carefully placing slices of salami onto beds of lettuce like I’m not three seconds from shriveling into a prune.
“Oh,” Aurora chirps, letting her gaze fall before turning back the way she came. “Sorry, I’ll just?—”
“Wait!”
Eli really just can’t help himself.
Aurora pauses, chewing her lip as she looks at him sidelong through her lashes.
“Um, are you hungry?” Eli asks. “You can have my sandwich.”
“You need to eat,” Atticus says without turning.
“Dude, shut the fuck up,” Eli snaps back and then flinches when he remembers our audience.
I had no idea lunch was going to be this entertaining.
“Eli, I’m already making her, her own sandwich, man.”
“No, really, that’s okay. I’m not very hungry. I’ll just keep work?—”
“I’m sorry,” Eli says, stopping her from leaving a second time. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you and I feel like a total asshole for behaving how I did. I promise you that’s not me and it won’t happen again.”
Aurora’s throat bobs.
“Will you let me make it up to you?” he pushes when she says nothing, but his offer seems to have intrigued her or at least made her curious enough to hear more.
“Yeah,” I add, jumping in to help him out. “Eli was thinking you might want to do a little shopping. Grab some new clothes? Maybe get your hair done.”
When she lifts her gaze, her eyes burn into mine. She knows why I offered that. She told me when she got roped in with Jesse and his gang she’d just gone ‘menty B blonde’, and when she mentioned she was thinking of changing the color, he wouldn’t have it. Apparently his brand of asshole only dated blondes and said she’d be ugly with any other color.
I circle my shoulders back, trying to coax the excess rage to roll off.
“Yes,” Eli says animatedly. “We actually know a great stylist and she’d be more than happy to take you on short notice. It’s a bit of a long way away, but I’m sure she’ll fit you in, if you want.”
Aurora looks absolutely dumbstruck and it makes me wonder how long it’s been since someone did something nice for her, and I hate this Jesse fucker just a little bit more.
“That’s—wow. I mean, that’s really nice of you to offer but I don’t…” She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t really have much money right now.”
“That’s okay. Atticus is going to give you an advance on your first salary,” Eli tells her with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes that I whole-fucking-heartedly approve of. “Aren’t you, Atticus?
Atty grumbles out a noncommittal reply, slapping slices of meat onto Aurora’s sandwich.
“That would actually be great, but I’m sure I can drive myself into town and get everything I need as soon as I’m able to pay for the damage to my car.”
I flinch. “Yeah, about that…our mechanic said it’s a write-off.”
Her face falls.
“Actually,” Eli is quick to correct me. “I called Jack back, told him to go ahead and do whatever he needs to fix it. It might be a while—the damages were pretty bad—but he owes us a favor, so no worries on the cost.”
He doesn’t owe us shit and Eli will see to it that Jack is paid well for his time, but Aurora doesn’t need to know that. We can afford it.
Her face screws up. “Really? He’s not going to charge me?”
I shake my head. “Nope. But since it’ll be a minute before he does the repairs, you should let us take you.”
Eli does that thing with his eyes that always has the ladies eating out of his palm and I know that Aurora is fucked.
“It’s really no trouble,” he says in that endearing way only Eli can.
Fuck, I haven’t heard him sound like this in a while. He’s been too in his own head to care about what anyone else thinks since everything.
“We can get whatever you need.”
Aurora chews her lip again and I imagine what it might feel like to run my teeth over the place where hers are. How she would taste.
“Well, Ellie is getting low on kibble.”
“So, that’s a yes then?” Eli confirms.
She hesitates, then nods. “Yes. That would be really great. Um, thanks.”
“How about Friday?” I ask.
“Whatever works for you guys.”
Atticus drags a serrated knife sharply through Aurora’s sandwich and piles the two pieces onto a plate, shoving it across the island toward her. “Here.”
“I…” Aurora starts to protest but seems to think better of it, crossing the floor to the kitchen island.
Eli gives Atticus a glare for the ages.
His nostrils flare and his jaw hardens, but when Aurora reaches for the plate, he pinches the other end to stop her taking it and running away.
“Sorry,” he says, and she scrunches her brows at him.
“For?” Eli pushes.
Atty’s lips flatten into a hard line. “For asking you to clean Eli’s studio knowing he wouldn’t be cool with it. That was shitty of me, and I’m sorry.”
It sounds like he’s reciting words from a fucking cue card, but it’s probably the best she’ll get. Atty doesn’t usually apologize at all and I’ve never heard him apologize to someone who wasn’t in this family. Baby steps.
He flicks his gaze to Eli for approval and gets the faintest nod.
“Judging by the way Elijah reacted, I’d say you should really be apologizing to him,” she snaps, and then immediately pales as if she didn’t mean to say the words out loud.
Atticus stares openly at her with harsh lines in his forehead while I try to hold in a snort. He’s doing a job of trying to look angry, but I know him well enough to see that he’s a little impressed, too.
“What did you just say to me?”
“Atticus,” Eli warns, and Atty’s lips press shut.
“I’m, uh,” Aurora stammers. “I’m just going to go eat outside. Thanks—for the sandwich.”
Eli’s ears turn red, but he has the decency to wait until she’s fully out of earshot before opening his mouth. “Do you always have to be such a dick?”
“Do you have to be such a fucking tryhard?” Atticus plates up our sandwiches and drops Eli’s in front of him with a clatter. “It was shit of me to send her into your studio and I fucking apologized, but don’t forget: the girl is a tool. Nothing more. Don’t get attached to her.”
He’s one to talk. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. My skin bristles and I have to shove down the urge to bite his head off, sinking my teeth into my sandwich instead.
Eli says something to himself under his breath that I don’t catch.
Before I can finish chewing to tell Atty that I’m not sure I’m cool with using Aurora for anything she doesn’t want to be used for, his phone chimes.
It’s the tone we chose for the motion sensor at the entry to our private drive.
Oh shit .
He’s early.
Begrudgingly, I set down my Italian cold cut and brush breadcrumbs from my fingers onto the floor as I move next to Atticus. He brings up the feed, and we watch a car I recognize from Atty’s surveillance program stop at the gate.
I know who it belongs to and I grin as heat coils up my spine like a burning snake, making me shudder.
“Seven,” Atticus hisses when I snatch his phone and jam the button to open the gate, allowing the car through.
“Oops,” I say, louder than I mean to as the anticipation plays with the rage in my chest. “If I’d known douchebag was on the menu, I’d have brushed my fucking hair.”