Chapter 8
Eight
Jade
The next morning, I woke to snuffling in my ear. “Stop.” I squinted at the furry little barrel of a dog. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.”
I glanced at the cracked door and groaned. All my ranting about wanting a room with a lock, and I hadn’t remembered to use it. I’d been too eager to search through his stuff.
A wet tongue swept my cheek. “Dog is not a proper name. You need another one.” I scruffed behind his pointy ears. “I shall call you…Squishy.” My childhood obsession with Finding Nemo had apparently not done me any favors.
The little fox look-alike tilted his head like he understood me, then went to the end of the bed and frantically dug up the comforter.
Something clattered in the bathroom, and my gaze shot to the closed en-suite door.
That was when I realized the shower was running.
There was only one person who would be using Wolf’s shower—Wolf.
God, I really needed to be more observant if I was going to live in this house.
And seeing as I found absolutely nothing last night, that could be for a while.
The water cut off, and I panicked. I really did not want to be here when he came out, but I couldn’t go downstairs in my sleep shorts—or didn’t want to.
I could get changed, but…I glanced around the room for my bag—my bag I had left in my car.
Dammit. Just as my bare feet hit the floor, the lock clicked.
I froze like a possum, ready to play dead, when the bathroom door swung open.
Steam billowed around Wolf’s hulking, barely towel-covered figure.
My attention swept from the top of his muscular chest, down abs that could have been chiseled by God himself, to the deep V-lines that slipped beneath that towel.
My mouth went dry, and it took everything in me not to gawk openly.
My face was already hot, though. Thankfully, Squishy leaped off the bed and shot a lap around the room, for no reason, granting me a much-needed distraction from all that skin, and hopefully drawing Wolf’s attention from my, no doubt, tomato-red cheeks.
“Sorry, I slept late.” I pushed to my feet, feeling super awkward about taking over his space. “I’ll go.” Even though he was the one forcing me to be in this house.
“It’s fine. I’m about to leave.”
Dog followed Wolf across the room, licking water from his leg when he stopped in front of the dresser. He yanked one of the drawers open, and the picture on the top wobbled, the same way it had last night when I’d snooped in there.
His hand shot out to steady it. He paused for a moment, seeming to stare at the photograph. Once again, a jagged lump of guilt lodged in my throat at the memory of Wolf’s hurt expression yesterday.
“Wolf, I…” God, it was true that the longer something was left, the harder it was to say. “I’m sorry about your dad.”
His back muscles tensed before he slammed the drawer shut so hard that the picture fell with a resounding clack.
That time, he didn’t bother trying to save it.
“A year too late, don’t you think?” The venom in his voice had me wanting to recoil, to escape the uncomfortable sense that maybe I had been in the wrong.
“I know.” I wanted to apologize for apologizing. “I didn’t know how to?—”
“How to what, Jade?” He turned from the dresser, his angry gaze aimed right at me. “Be a decent fucking person?” Without shame, he dropped the towel, and I snapped my attention to the wall directly in front of me. He knew how to make me uncomfortable.
The guilt I’d felt moments ago slowly ebbed into anger.
What had he expected from me? I had tried to text him, to offer my condolences, but it hadn’t gone through.
Just like all my other attempts to contact him.
He was the one who’d changed his number.
Sure, I could have asked Monroe for his new one, but he clearly didn’t want me to have it, so I’d refused to.
I took it as a clear message that I wasn’t welcome in his life or at the funeral.
My own heartbreak over him moving on so quickly with Nora didn’t help.
I was shattered, and now I was mad at him for acting like he’d needed me when he’d had her.
But the anger didn’t change the look of hurt on his face.
It didn’t alleviate the guilt I felt—misplaced or not.
“You’re right.” I shielded my face with my hand, blocking my view of his naked body as I hurried to the bathroom. “Sorry I brought it up.”
I closed the door and leaned against the wood, sucking in several calming breaths. Some things were unforgivable. On both our parts.
Thankfully, after I’d showered, Wolf was gone.
My bag, the one I’d left in my car last night, sat on the bed.
Damn him for still being thoughtful. My mind and heart couldn’t handle the emotional rollercoaster of contradictions.
But I was no closer to locating anything incriminating to change the situation.
There were drugs somewhere in this house, though. I just had to find them.
After I dressed, I went downstairs, following the rustle of plastic bags into the kitchen where Cassie was placing several Wal-E-Mart sacks on the counter. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest, and I was pretty sure her shirt was on inside out.
“Why are you shopping before—” I checked my watch. “Seven thirty in the morning?” I wasn’t sure Cassie had ever been awake before seven, unless she was rolling in at that time.
“I went to get the shopping list Rogue requested for breakfast.” She definitely should have sounded more pissed about that. I’d clearly entered some twilight zone.
“What are you, his personal assistant all of a sudden?”
“Just be thankful he doesn’t have your number.”
“Let me guess—” I took inventory of the groceries. Bacon, eggs, bread—“We have to cook breakfast?” Of course, what better way to humiliate women than putting us in the one place crusty old men thought we belonged?
“Yep.” She pulled out a carton of milk. “Can you make the bacon?”
I resented cooking like their damn mother, but I wasn’t going to leave her to this shit on her own.
I put a load of bacon on the grill pan, then made my coffee while Cassie danced around, singing lyrics to “Vigilante Shit .” Either Rogue had given her the best dick of her life last night, or she was up to something.
“So, I was thinking, we could go to Platinum after work tonight.” She cracked eggs into a pan. “I’ll just tell Rogue we’re doing inventory or something.”
“It’s okay. You don’t want to piss off Rogue by not being in his bed on time.”
She frowned. “You don’t need the money?”
“I do, but?—”
“Then we’re going.” She pulled a container of orange juice from the bag, followed by a huge bottle of MiraLAX. Okay, now her earlier singing made sense. “Cassie…”
“Mmm…” She filled a glass pitcher with juice, then took the laxative, unscrewed the cap, and tipped it up. A steady stream of powder poured into the jug.
Part of me wanted to stop her, but I had told her to be herself. Plus, the thought of Rogue shitting his life out felt like karma, the world righting itself and restoring order. Wolf, on the other hand… No. No Wolf anything.
He was the enemy. No matter if he’d given up his bed or had that heartbreaking look on his stupid face yesterday.
Cassie stopped pouring, then shrugged a shoulder before dumping in the rest. “That should do it.” That would do an elephant.
She grabbed a wooden spoon from the utensil caddy, smiling like she’d just won the lottery as she stirred the laxative-spiked juice. Those guys were about to have a bad, bad day.
Floorboards creaked in the living room. “Something smells good.” That was a male voice I didn’t recognize. I snatched the MiraLAX off the counter and quickly chucked it into the garbage can, covering it with used paper towels.
The lid slammed closed just as a tall, redheaded guy wearing an Omega Dicksolon T-shirt appeared in the kitchen doorway. I’d seen him hanging around Wolf, from a distance, of course.
Cassie flashed him a smile. The one he returned told me he knew her but definitely not well. Because if he did, he’d be scared of that smile.
“Oh, you’re in for a treat, Petey,” she said, scraping her semi-burned eggs onto a plate.
Petey’s attention drifted to me. “Jason Voorhees…” He moved to the knife block and picked it up, cradling it against his side like a football.
“Funny,” I said, as if this entire shit show wasn’t bad enough. “And so original.”
Ten minutes later, the food was ready and Wolf, Rogue, Bellamy, and Petey were sitting at the dining room table. Waiting to be served.
With a smirk, Cassie picked up two plates. “What is it you say, Jade? Karma is not in your action, it’s in your volition…”
“And you said affirmations were stupid.”
“Not that one. I’ve got all the volition.”
I grabbed the other two plates and followed her into the dining room.
The hum of the guy’s conversation fell silent. Cassie placed food in front of Rogue and Bellamy. When I put a plate in front of Wolf, he looked at it with a furrowed brow.
“I’m good.”
He had evidently learned his lesson back in high school when I’d attempted to cook him dinner.
I figured chicken casserole wouldn’t be that hard.
How wrong I was. It was disgusting, and I’d refused to eat it.
Wolf had choked it down, lying through his teeth about how good it was.
He’d looked green by the time he was done.
“Suit yourself,” I said.
“Give me that shit, then.” Rogue snatched Wolf’s plate and put it beside his own.
Cassie brought out the jug of orange juice. As soon as she placed it on the table, Rogue helped himself to a glass. The minute he lifted it to his lips, Cassie shot me a smirk.
“So, we need to lay down some ground rules,” Rogue said, then took another large gulp. Rules? Like we were errant children. I hoped he was chained to the toilet for days. “Your curfew is eleven.”
“Curfew?” I glanced at Cassie, knowing that wasn’t going to work. “Last time I checked, you weren’t our dad. And sometimes we work late.”
“Roller Burger closes at nine,” Bellamy said.
Rogue topped off his drink. “And I’m not your dad; I’m your warden.”
Wolf and Bellamy snorted a laugh. Petey was too busy scarfing down food to join in the conversation.
“Not that you’d know a single thing about working.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “But we do inventory every week. It can take hours.” It was bullshit. No one ever did the inventory. “As for being warden…whatever power trip you need, Rogue.”
His fork clattered to the plate, his gaze swinging to Wolf. That seemed to be his default, turning to Wolf, even though he was supposed to be the president.
“Like he said. Curfew is eleven,” Wolf backed up Rogue. “There’s a list of daily chores on the fridge.” The legs of Wolf’s chair scratched the hardwoods when he pushed to his feet, his hardened gaze meeting mine when he rounded the table.
So, that was how it was going to be.
I glared at the back of his head as he passed through the living room. Let that be a lesson not to bother trying to make any kind of amends with Wolf.