“Just out of curiosity, what would you have done if he touched your workshop?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Blow it the fuck up. Why? Did he touch my shit?”
He holds up his hands in surrender and even steps back out of hitting range. “No, not that we can tell. We checked, and everything was still locked up tight. We even looked at your cameras, the ones you have that just show the shop’s doors and not your home. They weren’t messed with. No one came or went.”
I take a deep breath and settle back in my chair. Didn’t even realize I rose out of it before now. I’m okay with redoing my home. But my workshop? Yeah, I wasn’t joking about destroying it. If he was in there, I could never feel like it was my space again. My bedroom is just where I sleep. Nothing sentimental about a bed. But my workshop? My first welding gun? My second? My third? Yeah, I’ve got a few. I collect them like some collect keyboards or notebooks. Some might not see a reason to have more than one unless it breaks or there are no more pages to write on in them, but that doesn’t stop people from buying more and just feeling good about using one versus the other depending on a project.
“Got a place to stay?”
I look up at Domino as he speaks, thrown a bit by his words. I had thought….
I jab him fast in the arm. “You fucker.”
He grabs his arm, laughing. “Shit, I’m sorry. You can stay here. I expected you to. Ow, that hurt.” He rubs the spot I hit, and I’m happy to see I left a mark. It’s small, but if he bruises, it’ll keep for a few days.
“It was meant to,” I grumble with a side glare at him, hurt that he made me think he was kicking me out.
“Ah, come here.” He walks around the counter to wrap an arm around me. I fake that I’m going to hit him again, and heflinches. “Cute, real cute.” He grins with a shake of his head as he pulls me in for a hug.
God, I needed this.
He wraps one arm around me, then adjusts after a second to hold me in both. I’m sitting still so his head can rest on mine, which I let fall to his chest as I wrap him in my own embrace. I breathe him in, and he lets me have this moment. This vulnerable moment. I might not cry, but I’m feeling pretty low right now. But being grounded, locked in his arms, is making me feel better on a level I didn’t know I needed.
Maybe having someone to lean on and not always doing it alone ain’t so bad after all.
“You up for some socializing?”
“What did you have in mind?” I tilt my head back and rest my chin on his chest to look up at him.
“The guys are pretty hyped still. Figured we could do with celebrating the things our brother did before he died. A little wake, if you will.”
I still can’t wrap my mind around that part. A guy jacking off and ruining my bedspread? Over it. Well, angry still, but able to move on. A guy dying for trying to guard my home? Not over it. Not sure if a part of me will ever be. Did I know him? No. But he died because of me, and it’s not something you forget about. I might not hole up somewhere freaking out on it, but I will be honored to share a beer with his brothers down below and drink to a good afterlife for him.
“You got something other than sweats I can go down there in?”
He nods to the door, and I look over, seeing a bag.
“Packed you some things. Figured you weren’t going to want to borrow off a vamp.”
“I don’t know what a vamp is, but I’m not against sharing. Summer and I do it all the time,” I say with a shrug.
“Club girl.”
I make a face, and he chuckles. “Yeah, didn’t think so. I packed a little of everything I could find that was still in your drawers. Might not be everything you want, but it should be enough to find something for tonight.”
He pulls away, smacks my ass, and heads for the bathroom. “Going to rinse off, and then we can head down.”
He doesn’t even bother shutting the bathroom door, and I’m not shy enough not to look. I mean, hello, the door is open. He’s basically asking for me to sneak a peek. And yes, the monster between his legs is still very much there and not something I imagined.
When he steps under the spray, I look in the bag and see what he brought me. Basic things, enough for me to pull an outfit together. I tie back my hair in a high ponytail and put on some jeans and a cropped sweater. The place is warm enough, but I don’t have the need to show much skin right now. Not sure if it’s a lasting effect from the feeling of being violated or that I just don’t care about competing with women who I’m sure will be wearing far less.
Domino didn’t grab makeup, but the bag he put my stuff in is one of the many gym bags I keep around. I have one in my car, another stashed at the gym, and a third at Summer’s place. Each one has a pair of sweats, extra shoes, a basic first aid kit, and a small makeup bag that holds blush, concealer, and black eyeliner. I’m a sucker for eyeliner. I wear it more than eyeshadow. Don’t get me wrong, I can rock me someglam shit with a full-on face of makeup. But why? In my experience, makeup leads people to think things that aren’t true. Like that I want to talk to people. I don’t. I only talk to someone when I have something to say. Or I like them. And there are very few who I like. Eyeliner intimidates most girls who don’t know how to use it, and for those who do, they know how to work it. For me, I rock it. Sure, I look like the mean girl on all the shows, but it keeps people back till I say they can speak.
“Sexy.”
Well, almost everyone.
Domino winks as he walks past me. Yeah, so what if I’m using the bathroom to put on my eyeliner? I needed a mirror, and this is the only one here. Sure, I could have used the camera on my phone to do my makeup, but maybe I wanted another sneak peek. Sue me, okay?
