I choked out a laugh before I said, “Well, that wasn’t exactly what I was thinking. Maybe not that fun. But it does feel exciting. Unpredictable.”
“Yeah, predictable is boring,” he said with humor in his tone.
Before this happened to me, I would have saidI was predictable. The kind of person that showed up on time. Well, not on time, because I believed that if you were on time then you were late. So I was always early by at least ten minutes.
I ate oatmeal for breakfast nearly every day. I drank coffee and water. I filled my life with work and left myself little time for anything else. The suits I wore were all the same, in various colors that were basically different shades of the same color.
I suppose I was a bit boring. I couldn’t deny that.
“I bought them,” Austin admitted as he stepped off the stairs. He said it with almost a defeated sigh, which very obviously meant he was surrendering to the fact that he’d let me in and there was no sense in pretending otherwise. Or… maybe he wanted to open up to me. I kept my face passive, even though a smile was trying really hard to come out. “I never really thought about matching towels before. Growing up,” his shoulders tensed for a fraction of a second, “Mom would buy white ones. That was all we ever had. I guess you can call these my rebellion.”
I laughed. “That’s a bit of a sad rebellion.”
“Sad, but unexpected. No one can say my rebellious phase is boring.” He tossed me a cheesy smile over his shoulder as he pushed open the door in front of him, revealing a room barely big enough for the two of us and the washer and dryer that were already there. “Not top-of-the-line, but they get the job done. Need me to show you how they work? I’m sure a fancy super FBI agent such as yourself probably has one you can talk to at home.”
“Hardly,” I said with a snort as I caught his gaze.
“Right, you probably have someone who does your laundryforyou.”
My expression dropped. Is that what he really thought of me?
Normally, I didn’t give two fucks about what someone thought of me, but with Austin, I felt the need for him to know the real me. To understand that I wasn’t like this image he had of me in his head for who knew how long. I wanted to prove to him that I was trustworthy, and could even be a friend if he’d let me in. Did his animosity toward me come from the fact that he assumed I thought I was above him?
“I know how to wash, dry, and even fold laundry,” I assured him like someone with something to prove. “It was one of my chores growing up, so while I might not be a fan of laundry, I do my own.”
“Look at that,” he said with a cocky smirk. “Fancyandcan wash his own clothes. Look out,” he swiveled his head around in humor, “we got ourselves a real adult here, people.”
“Funny,” I mumbled before pushing open the lid of the washing machine.
“Make sure you load that washer evenly or it will knock somethin’ fierce.”
“Got it,” I clipped out, done with his asshole attitude that he hid behind jokes and humor.
“I’m gonna patch up my leg. Then I’ll get a fire going. Probably crash for a bit, and maybe see about making dinner after that,” he said, then turned to leave.
“Do you need some help?” I asked hesitantly. I didn’t mind helping him, but I wasn’t sure how he’d take the offer.
“Nah,” he took a step forward before stopping. Turning back to me he said, “Thanks for offerin’.”
His face showed how genuine he was being.
I simply nodded, too afraid to open my mouth and set him in the opposite direction. After a minute of silence slipped by, he left me to the washing without another word.
Alone in the small laundry room, I felt like I could finally breathe for the first time since I grabbed my go bag and fled my home. I forced my tense shoulders to relax and tried to stretch the coiled crick in my neck. I was used to stress with my job, but when it was my personal life, it was a completely different story. I wasn’t able to handle it as well and might be worried that I’d crack if I didn’t find something to put my focus on.
Like a plan.
Some way to get me out of this.
I wasn’t sure how much I should trust Austin. I didn’t think I should. It was clear that he was here because of Reed, he was keeping me safe because of Reed. If it were left up to him, I think he’d ditch me and head off in the opposite direction. I couldn’t blame him, but it also made this ball of sick energy bounce around in my stomach. I didn’t want to trap him into helping me, and it was bordering on that.
9
Ford
After we spent half the day catching up on sleep, Austin made dinner. Venison stew, and yes, he’d killed and butchered it himself before packaging it to be frozen.
Curious and trying to find a way to fill up the silence, I’d asked who had taught him to hunt while we were eating.
