“Fair enough.” She raised her glass again. “To love, fear, and weird conversations over chicken.”
I clinked it. “To sisters who know no boundaries.”
My apartment felt empty after Janine left, every corner buzzing with the echo of her laugh. I pictured her walking back into the house we grew up in—the rooms still thick with ghosts—and I wondered, not for the first time, how she could stand it. After the accident, we’d stayed there because we had nowhere else. No aunts or uncles to take us in, no grandparents left to soften the blow. Just the two of us, trying to survive in a house too full of memories.
We’d paid it off years ago, and she could have sold it, bought herself a fresh start. But she never did. She said it was easier that way, less hassle. I’d called bullshit at the time, and I still did. Clinging to that place gave her something, though I couldn’t name what. Purpose, maybe.
I cleaned the kitchen meticulously, every crumb wiped, every dish washed until it squeaked. I didn’t have a dishwasher and had never wanted one. There was something calming about the smell of detergent and the heat of the water on my hands, as I scrubbed away the day one plate at a time.
When the counters gleamed and the last glass was drying on the rack, I sighed, remembering the chore I’d been putting off.
Laundry.
With the enthusiasm of a man heading to the gallows, I hauled the basket out of the bathroom and started sorting.
Chapter Eleven
Jesse
After changing into a tank top and oversized shorts, I hauled my basket downstairs. I moved at a snail’s pace, hoping Mr. Gore—with his troll feet and bionic hearing—wouldn’t catch me.
I eased open the laundry room door, silently begging the hinges not to squeal. They didn’t. I was in the middle of a relieved breath, when someone yanked the door from the other side.
My heart leapt into my throat. I bit back a string of curses that would’ve made a sailor blush.
“Sebastian! Holy shit, you scared me.” I whispered loudly enough to disturb the entire building. “What the hell are you doing creeping around like that?”
Sebastian looked puzzled. “You’re the one creeping around. Why are you whispering?”
“Because I don’t want to wake up the neighbors.”
“It’s nine p.m.”
His condescending tone irked the hell out of me.
I pushed him back and went inside. “I didn’t want Mr. Gore to hear me, okay? He gives me the creeps.”
“He’s actually a nice guy. You just don’t know him well.”
“Nor do I want to.” I looked at the machines, one of which was working. “Why are you doing laundry at this hour?”
“I waited for it to get cooler in here. I was just on my way up to grab a bottle of water. You want one?”
I was taken aback. “Oh. Are you… going to come back... and stay here?”
“Sure. So, water or something else?”
He had a great smile. I had to give him that. No man could date that many women unless he was gorgeous. He wore a whitetank top that showed off his muscled torso, and a pair of shorts that revealed toned, tanned legs. He must work out like a maniac to stay in shape while having a desk job. At least, I assumed he had a desk job. I had no idea what he actually did at NASA.
“Water, thanks.” As I walked around him, a whiff of his cologne caressed my senses—something fresh and citrusy made delicious by body heat and pheromones.
A wave of heat rushed through me as I set my basket down and focused on the task at hand. I’d better get my underwear into the machine before Sebastian got back. I should get in there too and wash the image of his sinfully sexy body from my brain. When he looked at me, did he remember I’d seen him naked in all his glory? I sure as hell did.
I loaded the machine and switched it on, then walked over to one of the three mismatched chairs my dad had bought for this space. He’d enjoyed sitting here and listening to the hum of the machines. I found it soothing too. It forced me to slow down after a long, hard day.
The laundry room was a cramped, dingy space. The walls were lined with crumbling brick, and the floor was rough concrete. The unshaded lightbulbs provided just enough illumination to make out the rows of washing machines and dryers. The air was thick with the damp mustiness of an underground space with poor ventilation, making it warmer than it should’ve been.
I wiped a bead of sweat off my brow. Sebastian and I were going to be stuck here together for a while. What were we supposed to talk about? I sucked at small talk, and our last meaningful conversation hadn’t gone so well.
