36. Resisting the grump – Aurora
36
RESISTING THE GRUMP
AURORA
A tticus snatches the brick of cheese from Seven’s hands and turns to take a cutting board from the cupboard and a knife from the block, muttering about Seven being a ‘fucking animal’, and the ‘thirty-dollar chunk of Gouda’.
Ellie’s claws click over the tile as she rushes back through the kitchen with something in her mouth. “What do you got there, girl?”
Her entire back end sways with her tail as she trots over to me and jumps up to set the toy in my lap. It’s a stuffed chicken. A funny-looking one with a long neck and googly eyes. She barks, nudging the chicken for me to pick it up.
I raise a brow at Atticus. I didn’t have time to pack up any of Ellie’s things when we ran, and she definitely never had a deranged chicken toy.
His lips press into a taut line as he sets to cutting the fancy cheese into perfect, uniform slices, that Seven picks up to eat almost as fast as he can cut them.
Ellie jumps down and pads to the wall along the other side of the kitchen, nosing the elevated dog dishes there.
My neck twinges with a sharp ache when I jerk my gaze back to Atticus too quickly. He bought her new dishes? And a toy?
Something in my chest aches, and I swallow hard against the feeling. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s nothing. I got her a bed, too. I put it in your room.”
He says it like it means nothing, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“And there are some plain white rags by the door for her paws and one of those poop scooper contraptions with the bags built-in.”
Ellie comes back over to take her chicken back from my lap and lies on the floor next to Atticus’s feet to pull at its neck. What happened to him not liking dogs?
“Oh, and they only had one small bag left of her kibble at the shop in town, but they’re ordering more. I’ll grab it next week. Between that and the raw diet stuff I grabbed for her to try, it should be enough to last until it gets here.”
I blink, and wonder if I misjudged him. He’s always come off as the cold and distant one. The asshole of the three, for sure. But how much of an asshole can he really be if he did all this for Ellie? Not just the basics of food and stuff to clean up after her, but also a bed and toy?
I open my mouth to say something, but I don’t know what. No one’s ever done anything to take care of her but me. He still isn’t looking at me and I take the opportunity to study him in profile. His prominent chin and cheekbones. His full lips. There’s a pull in my chest and before I can pause to analyze it any further, Elijah nudges me with his elbow.
“Told you he takes any kind of responsibility very seriously,” he whispers, making Atticus scoff and Seven laugh out loud.
I clear my throat and excavate the appropriate response. “Well, thanks.”
The words come out awkwardly.
“For taking such good care of her,” I add. “You really didn’t have to do all that. I would’ve got her everything she needed as soon as I got?—”
“Don’t worry about it. I had some time to kill while I was waiting to see if these two idiots were going to get you all killed.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Seven says, carefully rolling his injured shoulder with a wince. “Close call, though.”
“It’s not fucking funny, Sev,” Atticus says in a low monotone. “You know damn well it isn’t.”
That wipes the grin from Seven’s face, and he finally sits down on one of the stools at the island. “I know, man.”
He claps Atticus on the back. “Sorry.”
Atticus heaves a hard sigh as he slices the last bit of the cheese and sets down the knife to go and wash his hands, and I get the feeling he’s only doing it so he can turn away from the rest of us. I don’t think he’s the type to want to show any emotion. I know a bit about Seven’s past, and a smidge about Eli’s now, but I wonder about Atticus’s. Where he came from. What he’s been through to make him so…closed off. To make him feel like he needs to be in control.
“You guys must be tired. You should all get some rest,” he says without turning around.
Eli nods as if ‘tired’ is the understatement of the century, and yeah, I’m fucking tired too, but they promised me answers. Don’t I deserve that? I can’t keep going on like this, not knowing what the fuck is happening, or who these men are, or the men who are after them. If I’m going to stay here, then I think I have a right to know.
“Ro, you okay?”
“Hm? Yeah. I’m fine, I just…”
I guess it can wait another night.
“Never mind.”
“You want answers,” Eli guesses.
I nod. “It can wait, though.”
He shakes his head, those warm eyes of his holding on to mine like a promise. “I think you’ve waited long enough.”
Atticus turns to lean against the counter, and I don’t miss the look he gives Eli. It’s a warning. A request for caution. But Eli shakes his head at Atticus, too. “I want to tell her. I want her to know.”
Atticus’s cheekbones flare. “We still don’t know for sure if we can trust her.”
“I do,” Eli challenges him, and a warmth spreads in my belly. “Can’t that be enough?”
Atticus considers Eli for a few beats before nodding. “It’s not up to me,” he says finally, and that seems to be the end of it.
Eli lets out a shaky breath, and I don’t like how he suddenly looks ill. His throat bobs as he pulls his hands into his lap and begins to unconsciously massage the injured one. Imagining what was done to him makes my skin crawl and my stomach twist. Whatever he says can’t be worse than anything I imagined. Could it?
His gaze slides to Seven. “Sev?”
“Yeah. I’ll grab the whiskey, bro. I think we’re all going to need a drink for this.”