But I don’t think I want to live with anyone. For someone who’s always been lonely, I’m not in a hurry to have another adult presence looming. At least one that’s not romantic.
I tease, “I don’t think I want to be having coffee with your love life every other morning.”
He scoffs, taking my drink. “Like they would still be here in the morning.”
I roll my eyes as he gulps down, swallows, and I take it back, partaking of some.
“It’s got potential,” he says, “the neighborhood.”
I think so too. The little voice in my head is thinking about little things, like fifteen-year-old Tommy outside drinking around older guys, or how to pry into Codi’s life and what she does when she’s not working for me…
Or Farrow and what he’s hiding behind his closed doors and clever quips. All of it a responsibility, at least to some extent. Am I trading one set of obligations for another?
But I love the view out my window.
“I just got out on my own,” I say quietly. “I think I’m gonna try it for a while.”
I look back at him, seeing him nod. He doesn’t need it explained.
“But…” I broach. “There are other houses for sale on the block.”
He chuckles, coming back to the window next to me. We gaze out at the three-story brownstones, falling apart after so many years of neglect. Looters destroyed the interiors, and broken windows let decades of snow, rain, and wind inside. My house is one of the nicer ones as the history of the place made it more of a shrine than a target.
Not many people want to move to a failing neighborhood with low property value, and spend thousands of dollars to renovate.
But Noah might.
“Farrow probably wouldn’t give you permission, though,” I tell him.
Noah’s eyes flicker with amusement as he stares down at the narrow alleyway between mine and Farrow’s houses. “Is that so?”
But he says it like it’s a challenge.
Something tells me that Farrow doesn’t let anything happen on Knock Hill that he doesn’t like, and I’m not sure if he doesn’t like Noah Van der Berg, but he will certainly be in his face here.
The music downstairs cuts off, the vibrations through my floor suddenly ceasing.
A piece of furniture moves, someone shouts.
I stand up straight. “Something’s up.”
Noah follows me out of my bedroom, a growl stopping me in my tracks at the top of the stairs.
“Everyone out!”
I look to Noah.
“Cops?” he says.
I take a step just as Lucas charges from the living room, back into the foyer, and whips open the door.
Turning to Hawke, he tells my brother’s son, “Go. She’s going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble already. Don’t make it worse.”
I’m going to be in trouble? Is he serious?
I expected him to call and berate me. Or maybe slip in unnoticed when he saw the party on his cameras.
But he’s charging in here like it’s his damn house.
