Brix pushed his plate away. “Still can’t believe you came with me, or that I let you. Some Lusmoore I am.”
“You think trusting me makes you less of a Lusmoore?”
“It’s complicated. We’ve got a vow of silence . . . no outsiders, no emmets. Must’ve been half-mad with the cold to break it.”
“Fucking emmets again. Awesome.” Calum got up and went to the sink, swallowing the sudden hurt spreading through him. It hadn’t occurred to him that Brix would regret trusting him. Idiot. Did you really think—
Brix was suddenly right behind him, arms around his waist, stilling his hands as they fumbled with the taps over the sink. “Don’t take no notice of my sleep-deprived ramblings. I’m glad you were with me, and if I was gonna tell anyone my darkest secrets, it would be you.”
Calum closed his eyes briefly, absorbing the bone-warming heat of Brix’s chest against his back. “You mean you haven’t told me your darkest secrets? There’s more?”
“There’s always more, Cal.”
And Calum believed it. He’d run blindly into Brix’s life with his own bag of bullshit, but the longer he spent with Brix, the more he realised the closest thing to a best friend he’d ever had was drowning under the weight of something Calum couldn’t see. And perhaps he always had been. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
Brix sighed and banged his head gently on Calum’s back. “I do, mate, I promise, but it works both ways. I’m not gonna turn on you or cast you aside, and I just wish you fucking trusted me.”
Any response Calum might have had was caught behind the lump in his throat. He sucked in a breath and swallowed hard, but by the time he’d composed himself, Brix was gone.
“Lee? Do you know where the spare printer ink is?”
Lee kept her eyes on her work, showing no indication she’d heard Brix’s question, which wasn’t unusual for her, or anyone else who worked at Blood Rush when Brix couldn’t find something. And she had the perfect excuse for ignoring him—she was inking—and Lord knew if it wasn’t Brix who’d taught her how sacred that was.
He left her to it, moved to the next station, and asked the same question of Kim, who at least deigned to answer him. “Dunno, mate. Ask Lena.”
Brilliant. As if Kim didn’t know Lena was out for the day. Brix stomped off, barely stopping to check out the awesome phoenix Kim was etching onto a local lad’s back, and went back to the storeroom to resume turning the shelves upside down.
He’d fairly trashed the place by the time Lee came to find him.
She cast a critical eye at the mess he’d made. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
“Watch it,” Brix grumbled—he wasn’t in the mood for Lee’s lip today. “You know what I’m doing—I’m looking for the printer ink like I have been all bloody day.”
“It’s up there.”
Lee pointed to the only shelf Brix hadn’t torn apart. Brix reached for it without comment, took the cartridge he needed, then dumped the rest of them in their rightful home.
From the doorway, Lee stared at him, eyebrow raised. “Why’ve you got a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp?”
And there it was, her favourite way to insult him when he was fit to kill the next person who crossed his path . . . anyone except her. “Perhaps I’m hungry. I’m the boss around here. Doesn’t anyone bring me lunch anymore?”
“No, ’cause you won’t let us pay for it and our good deeds go to shite. Do you want something from Becky’s? I can shoot and—”
“No, no, it’s fine.” It was a running joke that, Lena aside, Blood Rush staff rarely managed to buy Brix lunch. “How are you doing, anyway? Did your dandelion sleeve go okay?”
Lee shrugged. “Yeah, I’m getting a bit bored with them now, though. They’re too fucking trendy.”
“Wait till you’ve done a hundred tribal sleeves, then you’ll know what boring is. Trick is to make each one your own.”
“You don’t say.” Lee’s gaze turned withering. “And how, oh wise one, do you do that when your client brings you a Google screen shot and asks you to copy it?”
“Tell ’em to take it elsewhere if they want a carbon copy. You get enough work here to allow yourself that luxury. We’ve been over this.” Lee scowled, and Brix knew he had her. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Shadowing Calum. He’s going to stencil me a mandala to practice my dot work on so I can try and incorporate it into that spirit-horse design I’m doing next week. He’s a pretty awesome teacher. In fact, he’s pretty awesome in general.”
“Who? The spirit horse?”
“Don’t be a dick. You know I’m talking about Calum.”
