Chapter Forty-Three
AJ
I didn’t mean to lose it in front of Kingston and Atlas.
But there’d been no stopping the panic attack when it started to take over me. And when I panicked, I cried. It was a frustrating but unavoidable part of the process.
I cried when I was frustrated as well.
And angry.
Hell, I cried if I needed to make a phone call I was nervous about.
I just… cried a lot.
And this house, this was my fresh start, the beginning of my new life. A chance. For things to be better. For me to build a life that I loved.
Hearing that it was being ripped away from me just when I’d started to get comfortable had been overwhelming.
I hadn’t been prepared for just how upset I’d been. I’d barely made it into the privacy of the bathroom before the tears started to flow as my heart slammed against my ribcage, and my breathing got fast and shallow.
I never used to have anxiety.
I’d been such a laid-back kid and teen.
It wasn’t until I turned seventeen that the anxieties started. Back when…
Nope.
No.
I wasn’t going there. Not when I was already feeling so out of control.
I leaned against the bathroom wall, eyes closed, trying to focus on my breathing until I could feel the tension loosening up in my chest, could expand my lungs completely again.
I grabbed some tissues, blowing my nose, then grabbed a washcloth, soaking it in cold water, before pressing it into my tear-red eyes.
Down the hallway, I could hear the muffled voices of the men speaking. Likely deciding how long they could possibly give me to collect my things and put me out on the street.
What would I do without this house?
Maybe I could find something short-term. A house rental. An apartment sublet. Just… something until I could figure out my next step.
I made decent money.
I didn’t need to squirrel away as much of it as I did.
It was overkill.
It was just… if I needed a quick out, I wanted to be prepared.
I never wanted to be caught off guard again.
I sniffled hard, then re-wet the washcloth, pressing it to my skin.
No matter what, I would figure it out. I’d gotten this far, right?
King’s voice, familiar and once so comforting, called down the hall, asking me to come out to talk.
“Right,” I said to my reflection. I might as well not have bothered with the compress. I was never someone who could cry and then look like it never happened. I always stayed red—my eyes, the tip of my nose—for hours afterward. And most times, I woke up puffy-eyed the next morning too.
Oh well.
It is what it is.
Taking a deep breath, holding, then releasing, I pulled open the door, and made my way back into the living room where the men were waiting for me.
Kingston’s head tipped toward his shoulder, his brows scrunching, eyes looking sad. Because, of course, he could tell I’d been crying.
Thankfully, though, he didn’t mention it.
“I will just need a couple of hours to, ah, pack my stuff,” I said, hearing the crack in my voice, but ignoring it.
“No, wait,” Kingston said, holding up a hand. “Atlas and I have been talking,” he said. “And we think we might have a possible arrangement that will work for everyone.”
“O…kay,” I said, tone as dubious as I felt.
Kingston looked at Atlas, but he didn’t say anything, leaving his older brother to take the lead.
“Here’s the thing. Atlas is never here. That’s why we had you move in. And he’s only here right now because he needs a place to recover,” he started.
“Yeah,” I said, wincing at his body and having to force back visions of his leg bone sticking out of his leg.
What can I say? I didn’t do gore well. Or blood.
I once accidentally trimmed Samson’s nails and clipped the quick.
It didn’t even bleed that much, but I’d been nauseated the entire day about it.
“And he clearly needs some help here and there. But it’s not easy at our house with the kids. So, we were wondering if maybe it would work for you if you both temporarily cohabitated,” Kingston said.
“Cohabitate?” I asked.
“There are enough bedrooms. And you could make sure this moron doesn’t end up on the floor and unable to get back up,” he said, jerking his chin toward his brother.
Could I do that?
Live with a man?
A man I didn’t even know?
I mean, he was a wreck.
It wasn’t like he was a threat to me or anything. He looked like he was in pain just sitting still.
“Not gonna try anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Atlas said. “Pretty sure you could outrun me anyway,” he added, waving down at his leg.
“We’ll waive rent while he’s here, of course,” Kingston went on.
“That’s… that’s too much,” I said, even as I mentally wondered how far I could stretch that money. My car desperately needed to go into the shop. New tires. New brakes. I’d been putting it off because it was just so damn expensive.
“Or maybe we can work out an arrangement where you drive Atlas to the occasional doctor’s appointment in exchange for staying on while he’s here recuperating.”
“I… I could do that,” I said, nodding.
“No one is expecting you to take care of him,” Kingston went on. “If he needs help showering or anything like that, one of us will come.”
“I can shower myself,” Atlas insisted, unmistakably grumpy at being so down for the count.
“You can’t even sit up by yourself,” Kingston shot back, rolling his eyes.
“But if you could, you know, bring in the takeout he orders, maybe get him drinks now and again, that kind of shit,” Kingston said.
“I could do that,” I said, nodding.
“Maybe if he needs anything and you’re already heading to the store…”
“Sure,” I agreed, thinking that wouldn’t be too bad.
I wasn’t a complete stranger to caretaking. When I’d been a kid, my paternal grandparents, then maternal grandparents had moved in with us as they declined. Even as a little kid, I was helping feed them or bringing them their meds.
I’d never minded it, either.
I always liked feeling helpful.
“Keep track of your mileage,” Kingston suggested. “And Atlas will pay you back for it. And wear and tear on the car.”
“That’s really not—“ I started to object.
“AJ,” Kingston said, shaking his head. “I know you’re too nice to say it, but this is a major fuck-up on my part that has led to an inconvenience for you. Let us make it up to you.”
I mean, he was right.
This was his fault.
And I knew I was a little too apt to let people take advantage of me. I was working on it. This was an opportunity to do that, right?
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding.
Kingston owned his own thriving business. I’d gone to his offices to meet him about the house. He was clearly doing well for himself. I didn’t know anything about Atlas and his financials, but he was obviously doing alright if he owned a whole house to only spend a week or two in it a year, right?
“Good,” Kingston said, nodding, looking relieved. “I’m gonna go see if I can get the guest room more accessible for you,” he said to Atlas, who gave him a distracted nod.
“Can I get you some… ibuprofen or something?” I asked as his face kept tensing. “You look like you’re… feeling it,” I said.
Those pretty dark eyes of his flicked up to mine, and he gave me a tight nod. “If you have any acetaminophen,” he said. “I can’t have ibuprofen with a concussion.”
“Yeah, I have it,” I said, rushing off to the bathroom to grab the bottle, then to the kitchen to get a glass of water. “This is all I…we… have,” I said, handing him the glass, then opening the bottle for him. “But if you give me a list, I can run out.”
“This is fine,” he assured me, bracing the glass on his thigh to take the pills I shook into his hand. “Thanks. But I’ll give you my card to stock up whenever you have time.”
“I can go right—“ I started.
“AJ,” he cut me off, his smirk a little boyish. “If you’re that accommodating all the time, people are gonna leave treadmarks all the fuck over you.”
Well, damn.
There was nothing like getting called out on one of your most glaring flaws from a complete stranger.
“And I’d like to say I’m better than that,” he went on. “But in this condition, I can see myself asking for too much too often. So set a boundary and stick to it.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Well, in that case, I will go tomorrow before work.”
“There you go,” he said, shooting me that charming smile again. Just before there was a loud rap at the door that had me nearly coming out of my skin. “Whoa there,” Atlas said, brows pinching. “It’s probably Shane.”
“Shane?” I asked.
“A family friend,” he said. “King!” he called.
“Yep, I heard him,” Kingston said, rushing down the hall to answer the door, stepping outside to talk to this Shane guy.
“Go eat your dinner, sweetheart,” Atlas told me, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Do you want some?” I asked. “I always buy enough to feed a small army. I can never decide what I want, so I get a bunch of stuff.”
“Probably a good idea to get some food in my stomach,” he said, nodding. “Thanks.”
Happy to have a moment alone to let my mind really work through this new arrangement, I scurried off to the kitchen, grabbing two dishes out of the cabinet.
It finally made sense why there were only four plates.
And they were all those brightly colored melamine plates they put at the end caps of big box stores in the summer.
Because what man thinks to fully stock his kitchen?
Especially when he doesn’t even actually live in the house?
He probably just passed them while buying other necessities, grabbed four, and went on with his life.
There had also only been two coffee mugs. And the only glasses in the house were two rocks glasses that went with the whiskey in one of the cabinets that I hadn’t touched.
Stocking the kitchen was something I found myself fantasizing about, even going online and saving a bunch of items to a wish list. Plates and pasta bowls and a cutlery set that actually matched. Shelf liners. Spoon rests. You name it, I had it all mapped out.
In fact, in my little fantasy world, I’d redecorated this entire house. New paint, art, lamps.