Sighing, I scrubbed at my aching eyes, then I looked down and saw all the crusty paint stains still dotting my hands. I was a literal mess.
Fuck my life.
I probably should’ve cared, but I just didn’t have it in me at the moment.
“I get the vibe that you and Anne know each other?”
I tipped my head. “She dated my dad for a hot minute. She’s actually a grade-school teacher, but she picks up some extra shifts here when her ex has the kids. She’s nice, I guess. She has killer aim with a syrup bottle.”
“Noted.” Dylan laughed huskily. “So she has kids?”
I nodded. “And a roommate—a teacher she works with, I think.” All crammed in a three-bedroom apartment. Not that I’m going to complain. “A couch is better than the sidewalk.”
My throat grew tight and suddenly it was so hard to breathe, let alone think. Tears clouded my eyes again. I felt so stupid.
So stupid and so freaking tired.
Why was all this so hard?
“I agree. A couch is definitely better than the sidewalk.” Dylan grabbed the syrup bottle and doused his pancakes with an amount of syrup that would make a six-year-old proud. “It’s definitely the safe option.”
His lips curved with some inner thought, then he shook his head slightly.
“What?” I picked up a flaccid piece of bacon and winced.
“Just…I used to have a roommate, but she moved out recently. Mostly.”
“Mostly? That doesn’t sound like she’s moved out.”
He hitched a shoulder as he dug into his choconana pancakes. “Technically she never moved in. She’s my childhood best friend. Anyway, she got into a shitty situation with her apartment and needed a place to stay. Only, I’ve been using my spare bedroom as an art studio, so she was camped out on my couch…until she started seeing my brother. They’ve been pretty inseparable. I can’t remember the last time she slept at my place.” He took a huge bite of his pancakes, then mumbled around his full mouth. “Which is unfortunate since I finally got around to setting up a murphy bed in my spare room.”
My eyes flew to his as I registered what he was implying. I could have a bedroom with a closing door…
I just had to stay withhim.
He tipped his head. “It’d be pretty easy to move my art stuff out into the living room now that I’ve cleaned it up. What do you think? Couch with Anne or a bedroom in my apartment?”
Chapter 3
Dylan Burns
I don’t know what it was about this girl.
Maybe it was the obvious daddy issues? Because I could totally relate. Or her artistic soul? Because she totally killed that mural. Maybe it was the naked pain in her eyes?
Maybe she was my karmic redemption.
Indy shook her head as her fork fell to the plate with a clatter. “What? I can’t, I mean you can’t…That’s not…”
I shrugged. “Just tossing it out there. I bet Anne will vouch for me. Aside from falling for my own dad’s bullshit, I’m a pretty upstanding guy. Got no warrants out for my arrest. Got a steady job with my brothers building motorcycles for celebs and corporations. And I don’t have anything weird in my closet or under my bed. You can check if you wanna.”
“Why are you selling Indy on your virtues?” Anne asked as she slid a plate of steaming stuffed French toast across the table. “What did I miss?”
I hitched a shoulder and carved another bite from my cold choconana pancakes. “I was just offering my spare bedroom to Indy here.”
“What? Why? She can stay with me—someone she actually knows.” Anne cocked her hip and sent me a look I now realized was her teacher stare.
“On your couch. In a cramped apartment you share with two or three other people?”
