Three more seconds left of mysterious Carmen before all is revealed.
Two.
One.
I slot the key into the lock and turn. The door opens with a mighty groan because I misplaced the oil and never got around to buying some more.
“Come on in.” I widen the door and watch them funnel in single-file, ducking under the doorframe because yes—they’re all so much taller.
“Nice place,” Skipper says, darting over to the weathered mantlepiece. He picks up each photo frame individually, scanning. If he’s looking to piece together my family tree, I wish him good luck. He’ll be there forever.
My family has a history of leaving one another. It runs in the blood.
“You should really consider changing this toaster,” advises Carter. “This one is so old it could be a fire hazard.”
“I prefer the term vintage.”
I let Carter roam around the kitchen, picking apart all of my half-broken appliances. The damage is done. There’s no point trying to explain my situation and dig myself into a bigger hole. Living a life based on lies is exhausting. I’ve tried and tested.
I carry Otis on my hip into the next room, laying him down in his cot. The wild ride over has tired him out.
The bikers are talking in the kitchen. I peer through the glass window and realize it must be serious. They look hot when they’re serious, but when the seriousness includes me, I don’t have time to think about sex.
The conversation dies as soon as I enter the room.
“Well, don’t stop on my account.”
They turn to each other and wait for someone to speak.
“Spit it out,” I demand.
“Carter’s staying here,” Vex announces.
A death glare from the chosen one himself.
“I don’t do guests,” I say.
“We need someone here in case Conrad finds out your address,” Skipper says.
“A billion times no.”
“For Otis,” Carter says.
Is this gonna be their way to win me over forever now?
“Why Carter?”
“We thought it would be best. You two have history.”
Skipper is saying it like there were feelings involved. There weren’t. The hookup lasted twenty minutes and Carter couldn’t have been out of there faster. What he actually means is that we had an encounter. A brief one that meant zilch.
I give Skipper a stern look.
“It’ll be just for a few days,” he says.
“A few days?”
“Yeah, until we have Conrad sorted.”
