Marlowe glances up, eyes still dazed.
“Get her something to eat,” I grunt. “And some water.”
Arden raises an eyebrow at me. “Anything else, boss? Maybe a bouquet of flowers while I’m at it?”
I glare at him. “Don’t be an ass. Just get some snacks.”
Arden smirks, his gaze flicking between me and Marlowe like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. He tosses his keys to Bridger. “I’ll be right back.” He takes off, and the room falls quiet again.
Bridger leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching me carefully. I can feel his question hanging in the air, but I’m not ready to make plans yet.
The door swings open about five minutes later, and Arden strolls back in, carrying a plastic bag. He tosses a bottle of water to Marlowe, who catches it with shaky hands. “Got you some chips and a granola bar too,” he says, pulling out the snacks and handing them over.
Marlowe actually smiles at him, and something tightens in my chest.
Arden grins back. Yeah, I don’t like it. I grit my teeth. “Did you get me anything?”
Arden glances at me, brows furrowing. “You didn’t tell me to.”
I narrow my eyes. “Fuck off, Arden.”
He shrugs, not giving a damn. “If you wanted snacks, you could’ve asked for snacks. I’m not a mind reader, man.”
Marlowe opens the water and takes a long sip, and Arden’s eyes linger on her a little too long for my liking.
“So, Lo,” Arden says, leaning against the counter with a lazy smirk. “How’d you end up tangled with these idiots?”
Her shoulders raise, but she doesn’t answer. She looks to me questioningly.
“That’s enough,” I snap. I stand up.
Arden raises his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Damian. Just trying to get to know your friend.”
I don’t miss the way he says “friend.”
Bridger rolls his eyes. “If you two are done measuring dicks, we need to talk about where we’re going next.”
Arden doesn’t take his eyes off Marlowe, though. “You good?” he asks her, softer this time.
She nods but still doesn’t talk. She just picks at the edge of the chip bag.
The gentle way Arden’s talking to her is really starting to piss me off.
Arden looks back at me with an arrogant face. “You’re not mad because I’m being nice to her. You’re mad because you didn’t think to ask her first.”
My hands curl into fists, and Bridger cuts in before I can start something I can’t finish. “Arden, stop screwing with him,” Bridger mutters. “We’ve got enough shit to deal with.”
Arden shrugs, unbothered.
I glare at him.
Marlowe’s quiet, sipping her water, and I feel like an idiot for wanting to rip Arden’s head off just because he’s not being a dick to her.
Arden doesn’t miss the way my hands are shaking, even though I try to hide it. His smirk fades, replaced by something more serious. “You’re lucky I’m good at patching up idiots,” he says.
I grunt, leaning back against the wall, trying to ignore the pain twisting through my side. Marlowe doesn’t look back at me, and I wonder if she’s doing it on purpose.
The room settles into a weird, uneasy silence, and I try not to think about how much I hate that Arden’s right. I push off the wall, careful not to move too fast. The pain in my side fades into a dull ache, the meds Arden gave me finally kicking in. My head’s clearer, but there’s still this fog hanging over everything.
