Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Rett
“You should quit your job.”
“So you don’t have any headphones I can borrow?” I surmised, glancing around his bedroom.
His place was super nice, very industrial and modern, but a lot emptier than I expected. All he had was a giant bed that had to be custom-made because it was massive. On either side of the bed were matching wooden nightstands, but only one had a lamp.
Where does he keep his clothes?
“If you quit, you wouldn’t need any headphones,” he said, coming out of the bathroom completely dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a black T-shirt.
The fabric looked like it loved him, molding to his broad shoulders and lean waist like a glove.
His hair was wet and rumpled, and he pushed it back, drawing my attention to the ring he always wore.
“What is that?” I asked, distracted.
You’d be distracted too if he were around.
Pulling his hand down, he asked, “This?”
I nodded. “You always wear it.”
His hand shoved deep into the front pocket of his jeans, aggressive enough to make the waistband dip low to show the top of his boxers.
He pulled out a small matchbox, grabbed one, and struck it against his ring.
Sparks ignited, producing a small flame.
Even from a few feet away, I heard it crackle as the golden flame began to char the matchstick.
“But you don’t smoke anymore,” I said, a little mesmerized by the flame.
“Never know when you might need a fire.”
I thought about asking what he meant, but considering his line of work, it was probably better not to know.
He blew it out and tossed it into the bathroom before propping his shoulder on the doorjamb and curling his finger at me.
My stomach swooped as though the ground fell out from beneath me. I glanced down, proving it was still there, but the unsteady feeling persisted.
“Come here, Pip,” he beckoned, curling his finger again.
I went, clutching the towel around me, and stopped just inches from him. He seemed even bigger than before. Maybe because now I knew he was basically a walking fire hazard. But probably more because he was dressed and I was completely naked.
He tugged away the towel with a single move, and goose bumps rose along my flesh. He swept me up bridal style and strode into the bathroom and then through a door I hadn’t noticed before.
So this is where his clothes are, I thought, glancing around the spacious closet lined with shelves and racks. There was a lot of black but also lots of patterns. He seemed eclectic in his taste, and it made me curious.
“You have more clothes than anything else,” I pointed out.
“Getting dressed is a vibe, my guy. Can’t match the vibe if I don’t have the supplies.”
My clothes had the vibe of the clearance section at Goodwill. It’s called beggars can’t be choosers.
After putting me on my feet, he gestured. “Pick something.”
“What?”
“Get dressed.”
“My clothes are in my backpack.”
He arched a brow, practically a silent dare. My stomach swooped again. “You saying you don’t want to wear mine?”
He didn’t need to know that, as soon as I was alone, I was going to roll around in all his stuff and sniff it like a psycho. Some things were meant to be private.
He chuckled as if he could hear my thoughts—he can’t, can he?—and then patted me on the bare ass before retreating to the bathroom.
I inhaled deep, holding his rich scent hostage in my lungs until I was forced to exhale. I went to a wall of shelves and trailed my fingers along all the fabric, row after row. I snooped in drawers and found sweatpants that were probably three sizes too big for me.
“Did you get lost?” he called.
“Coming!” I responded and went back to the shelves to pull out a hoodie that my fingers had lingered on a little longer than everything else.
It was red but faded like it had been washed a hundred times.
The inside was soft, and the strings were a little bit frayed.
Clutching it, I grabbed a white T-shirt off a stack nearby with a logo I didn’t recognize on the front and pulled it over my head.
Just like his shirt I had from years ago, this one slid halfway down my thighs, the hem sticking out from beneath the red hoodie once I had it on too.
Since his pants were supersized, I went back to the drawers and found more socks than I’d seen in my entire life.
I grabbed a long white pair with red stripes and tugged them on, all the way up to my knees.
Out in the bathroom, Ghost made a sound, and I found him at the sink, poking at his stitches.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hurrying over.
“I got them wet in the shower, so I’m replacing the bandage.”
“Let me help,” I said, fussing at his side. He stared at me through the mirror, eyes traveling my length twice.
“I never stood a chance with you.”
“What?”
He spun away from the mirror and grabbed me around the waist. My stocking-covered feet left the floor as he held me in front of him like some sort of doll. “I love you.”
I gasped.
He half smiled. “So you can say it, but I can’t?”
“You can only say it if you really mean it.” My voice was hoarse from the way he’d used me earlier, and honestly, I hoped it never went back to normal.
His eyes narrowed. “You calling me a liar?”
I shook my head, trying to stop the rising tide of tears. “No one’s ever loved me before.”
He lowered my feet to the floor to wrap his arms around me. “I’m sorry I was late.”
My fingers curled into his back, and my eyes squeezed closed. “You were worth the wait.”
“Welcome home, Pip. You’ll never go a day without love again.”
Those tears I’d been holding back spilled over, smearing right between us and all over our skin.
“Are you crying?” he demanded.
“I’m emotionally hydrated!” I wailed.
His laugh bounced around the room, and I felt his lips on the top of my hair. “You mind bandaging me up again?”
Sniffling, I pulled back and nodded. He lifted me to sit on the counter, and I grabbed what I needed out of the kit he already had out.
“You should let the doctor check these again.” I worried, opening a pad of gauze.
“I’m fine.”
“It would make me feel better.”
“Don’t bat those manipulation marbles at me,” he warned.
I fluttered my lashes again.
“Fuck,” he swore. “Fine. But you’re coming with.”
“I have to work,” I said, smoothing the covering over the stitches. I was worried about the wound. It was red and swollen. It probably really hurt.
“You quit.”
Pausing, I glanced up at him. “You telling me to quit and me actually quitting are two entirely different things.”
“Listen. I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think your ears work that well. I’ll ask the doctor to check them when you go.”
“Maybe we can have him check your brain,” I replied sweetly. “Because it seems like you forgot to turn it on.”
Hiro reared back. “My guyyy, did you just call me stupid?”
“You have really good hair.”
“I do, don’t I?” But then he scowled. “That’s not the point.”
“I’m not quitting my job, Hiro. I need it for the income.” That reminded me. “How much is the rent here?”
He laughed.
“If you don’t like it, I can go back to my place.”
His nostrils flared. It was a pretty good impression of an angry bull. “Try moving back to that fleabag motel and see what happens.”
“My apartment does not have fleas,” I insisted. How rude.
“Because they probably took one look at the place and fled for their lives.”
I smacked the unwrapped Band-Aid into his chest and hopped off the counter. I cringed at the pain radiating up the inside of my ankles and twinging in my knee, but I headed toward the door anyway.
His arms wrapped around me from behind, but I kept going, only to realize I was basically air-walking. “Pip.”
“I know my apartment isn’t the best, but it’s mine! And it’s better than the street. I’ve taken care of myself all my life, and I won’t let you or anyone else make me feel bad about it!”
“I’m sorry.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. “W-what?”
He blew out a breath that tickled the back of my neck and sent shivers down my spine. “I’m a first-class asshole, and I’m sorry,” he said, putting me down and backing away.
I turned back as he was shrugging the black shirt on, covering up the wound I’d already covered. But the one on his arm from the IV still needed a new one.
I started forward, but he held up his hand, stopping me.
“I’m no good at this,” he said quietly, maybe more seriously than I’d ever heard.
Before I could ask what he meant, he continued.
“This is why I forced myself to walk away from you two years ago. I’m not a good man, Rett.
Definitely nowhere near good enough for you.
I’m not good at talking, at compromise. In my life, it’s always been my way or no way. I never cared about anyone—”
“What about Kieran?”
He made a crude sound. “He doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s my brother.”
I frowned.
“Kieran saved my life once, a long time ago. And he’s done it again since. Me and him, we were in the military together. Got tapped for some top-secret unit that not even most of the government knows about.”
I nodded to show I was listening, hoping he knew that meant I wanted to hear more.
Everything.
“The training was intense. Basically mandatory torture and hazing. They said they did it so we could survive anything, but I think those bastards just liked to be cruel.”
I moved toward him.
He stopped me again. “Stay where you are.”
I made a sound.
Pain flashed over his face. “Please, baby.”
I nodded, and he blew out a breath. “This shit doesn’t even belong in the same room as you. I’m only telling you so you can understand how fucked up my head is.”
“I didn’t mean that about the doctor. I think your head is fine.” I hurt his feelings.
He barked a laugh. “I know, kitten. You match vibes, and I love it. But this shit… it’s not a joke. It’s real life, and you gotta know what you’re dealing with.” Hands on his head, he tipped it back and looked up at the ceiling. “Haven’t wanted a cigarette like this in a long time.”