“We’re all going to Flynn’s so his asshat ex can’t accuse him of doing anything.”
Jury hummed and nodded. “More coffee first?”
“On it,” Papa said from where he stood dumping more water into the reservoir on the coffeemaker.
I covered a smile because Papa was starting to sound irritated already. He got that way when anyone in his house needed something and he couldn’t immediately offer it up, which was why he spiraled into such a mood about his wine club and any other event he held at the house. Eventually a new pot of coffee was brewed, everyone had a waffle—or in my case three—and we talked and laughed our way through breakfast. Flynn’s mouth was tense, but he was still able to smile at me when I met his gaze.
After quick showers for everyone, we all left the house in one epic convoy for Flynn’s neighborhood. The early morning sun made him look magical, even in a simple T-shirt and jeans, as the golden wash of light hit his skin. I was very aware of Flynn wringing his hands in his lap beside me, and he was so lost in his head that I had to snag his wrist and hold on to get him to stop doing it. He took my hand instead, which was a huge improvement to him worrying all by himself while I was right beside him. When I turned in to the driveway, Dad pulled his car in behind us with the rest of the family.
Flynn rubbed his face and stared out the windshield at the small house, then turned and dropped his hands into his lap. His brown eyes gleamed as sunshine struck his face, and the silver glinting in his soft hair made me reach over and run my fingers through it.
“Maybe... you shouldn’t go in,” he whispered. He caressed a thumb under my left eye where it had turned a nasty dark purple. “He hit you, but he’s never been violent with me, it isn’t his typical go-to response. I think you two really startled each other. I’m sorry.” I let him run a soothing finger around my bruise.
“Fuck that. Bare minimum, he was being disgusting. He knew you wouldn’t want him in your bed, and he waited until you should’ve been asleep to sneak in. I don’t give a fuck about the black eye. I would take his weak punch again. Don’t apologize for other people’s bullshit.”
He sighed and nodded before he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine in a firm, sweet kiss.
“Still,” he said when he sat back. “You going in might provoke him.”
“Provoke?” I asked, not caring that my voice was like a gunshot in the quiet car. “Seriously?”
He flushed and glanced down.
“I don’t care, you’re not going alone.”
Dad tapped my window and pointed at the yard. My mind wasn’t in high gear yet, and Flynn was cursing before I recognized the sign planted in the grass as belonging to one of the local real estate giants—the orange-and-white signage had reminded me of Creamsicles when I was a kid.
“What the fucking fuck?” Flynn hissed under his breath and hopped out. He stormed around in front of the car, off to kick ass and take names. His face flared red and his muscles bulged as he ripped the sign straight up out of the ground and flung it onto the grass. I’d never seen Flynn act like this and couldn’t say I hated it. His arms flexed and he was sexy as hell. I went out to join him and was going to put my arms around him, but he marched past me toward the front door with the key already in his hand.
“So much for sneaking. You going in there to yell at him?” I asked.
Jury laughed and came to stand at my side. “You’re not supposed to sound happy about it.”
I pointed at the bruise around my eye, and his smile fell. Jury knocked his fist against his palm, and I rolled my eyes, jogging to catch up. Flynn pushed open the front door, stomped inside, and gasped. I followed him and stopped just over the threshold in shock. He stumbled forward and his rapid breaths echoed in the empty room. The carpeting had even been rolled up and removed, and all that was left was some ugly gray padding on the floor.
“Fuck! How?” He took off like a shot. The place wasn’t that big, and I could hear Flynn stalking from room to room because without any furniture every step he took was amplified. When he came back to me his hands were in shaking fists and his teeth were bared. I rushed over to him and gave him a hug, but he only trembled against my chest, muscles hard as rocks. Rage began to bubble in my belly. No one had a right to make my boyfriend feel this way—no one.
“Oh no,” Papa said as he came inside. He and Dad had worn suits, and he dragged his dark blue jacket closer to his body as if he was chilled by the empty house. He glanced around and walked over to us to rest a hand on Flynn’s back and rub the way he used to when I was sick as a boy. My heart flipped to see his kindness, and some of my anger simmered down. “I take it you didn’t leave the house this way?”
Flynn shook his head, and I kissed the top of it.
“How....” Flynn cleared his throat and dragged in a rough breath. “How did he do this in one day?”
Dad came over to stand beside Papa and shook his head, glaring at the bare walls. “He may have called a donation center. St. Paul’s has volunteers who will take furniture to people who need it. A good moving company. Friends—”
“No.” Flynn jolted in my hold and stood up straight. “None of his friends would’ve helped him do this. I hope. They know me.” Hurt tugged down the corners of his mouth.
Jury had snuck into the room when I wasn’t paying attention, and he turned toward us to shake his head. “Is your ex here right now?”
“No, it’s empty,” Flynn murmured.
Dad patted Flynn’s shoulder and went back outside, his phone already pressed to his ear, and Jury trailed after him.
“What...what am I going to do?” He stared into my eyes.
“You told us River Demchenko was handling this?” Papa pursed his lips.
Flynn nodded slowly.
