prologue
Onyx Trejo
Glitter.
She had added glitter to the paint for my kitchen.
The color suggestion she had made was perfect. I liked it more than I wanted to admit. But the glitter? Why was this beautiful curly-haired curvy goddess working at the hardware store so damn cruel?
Even after covering it up with four coats of paint, I could still see the slight glimmer beneath. The shit wouldn’t cover up. A muscle at my jaw twitched and clenched as I leaned against the kitchen counter drinking my coffee.
And I hated to admit, it looked good.
I even missed the way the kitchen had first sparkled after I applied that first initial coat and walked into my sun-filled kitchen the next morning. My lips twitched at the reminder. I hadn’t been able to believe my eyes when I saw it, torn between my head ready to explode and pride that my little snowflake had that kind of moxy to fuck with me after I had been an unsufferable ass.
The front door jingled and jangled like someone was having a tough time opening it. I wasn’t worried. This was our routine.Austin and mine. Bash used to stop by, but now he was busy with my sister.My baby sister.I winced and batted away the thought as I chugged down my coffee.She’s happy. He’s happy, I reminded myself. That was all that mattered.
“Jesus,” Austin groaned. “You need to change that fucking door. It swells,” he muttered, and I rolled my eyes.
The front door was perfectly fine.
The problem was that Austin was hungover as hell from his late night at the biker bar I swore stayed open later for him when he was on a bender.The idiot.He had work in a couple of hours, and at our age, there was no magic elixir that would help kick him into shape on time. He’d be paying for it, and it was freaking karaoke night. I almost felt bad for him. Almost. The jackass still believed in some long-lived curse the men in his family suffered by. Instead of facing shit head on, he went and hid under a bottle. Or two, knowing Austin.
He stumbled into my kitchen and winced. Judging by the dark circles beneath his eyes, I knew he hadn’t slept at all.
“Fuck, is it just me, or do the walls still sparkle?” he complained. I nodded.
“They do,” I muttered, reaching for his mug and pushing it closer to the edge.
Not needing to be told twice, he filled it up and started gulping it down black, unbothered by the strong, bitter coffee.
“How many coats have you done now?”
“Four.”
“You think…” he started to say. I turned to look at him, prying my attention from the walls that reminded me of the woman who had been unknowingly worming her way under my skin.
“What?” I asked. He blinked and turned his own pale gray-blue gaze to me.
“Nothing.” He shook his head and winced. “Got any Tylenol?” I pointed to the cabinet behind him.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m just thinking that’s a lot of paint, yeah? I mean, I can see two coats of paint not covering it up, but four? Is there any chance you think she’s still adding glitter to it?” he asked, pouring himself another mug of coffee before turning to the cabinet where I kept pain relievers.
“Still adding…” I opened and shut my mouth. My eyes scanned the walls. Fuck. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
Was she?
“No, I mean…” I ran my fingers through my hair and surprised even myself when I laughed.
Loudly.
The sound was rough because I wasn’t used to doing it anymore. Between running the brewery and all the special events, it had taken me three months to find the time to repaint the kitchen.
I turned toward the gallon of paint I’d used last sitting by the door that led to the backyard. I’d left it because I was too tired to walk it to the shed I kept out there.
“Pass me a butter knife,” I said to Austin. My eyes focused on the paint around the bucket. Was it sparkling? Was it just my imagination.
