"I guess I could eat."
Atticus clears his throat in a failed attempt to conceal his satisfaction. "Great. It'll be ready in thirty."
Then he's gone.
Seven's hand finds my back, and when I shift toward him, he slips his fingers up into my hair, tipping my face up.
"I can think of a few things that take roughly thirty minutes," he teases, sharing a meaningful look with Elijah over my shoulder before those burning blue eyes are on mine again. "Andwill work up a good appetite in the process."
My core squeezes at the imagery that statement concocts, but…I can't.
Not until I tell them.
How could I?
It wouldn't be right.
He senses or sees something in my expression that I'm not fast enough to hide. "Or,we could chill?"
Ugh. I can't just sit here.
"Atticus suggested we get you practicing on the range while you're here," Elijah suggests. "It's cold as fuck out, so we weren't going to bring it up until tomorrow, but we could go shoot a few rounds, get you more comfortable with a weapon again."
"Hand-to-hand combat, too," Seven adds. "Though I find sparring in the nude preferable, I guess there's a lot I could teach you with your clothes on."
Despite myself, I laugh.
I still feel too shitty to spar nude or clothed right now, but I could definitely shoot some shit. In fact, I would fucking love to.
"The range," I decide, and Elijah rises, ready to go in an instant.
"You're going to love it," Seven says animatedly. "Atty let me make targets out of Ambrose's face."
38
HAIRPIN TRIGGER
ELIJAH
They don't know I'm using the studio space for what it was intended for again, so I have no right to be upset when Atticus suggests it as a good spot for Céline to cut our hair.
It was easy enough to tuck away the few projects I'm nowhere near finished with and give the floor a quick scrape and wipe. I've adapted the ball grip Sev made for me, adding a wedge of dense foam as a finger grip, and it's made a huge difference. My hand is still sore as fuck when I've finished even a shorter session, but I never thought I'd paint again, so…I'm taking the bad with the good.
I keep my hand under the warm running water a little longer than I need to as I wash them in the bathroom and then throw my wet fingers through my freshly cut hair. Céline took a little more off than she normally does, and it reminds me of different times. Times when we were in Paris every month and stopping by to see her as often as we could.
The dark brown waves flow back away from my face, the tips just long enough to cover the tops of my ears.
"It looks good."
Aurora's voice behind me draws my attention in the mirror and I smile at her reflection.
"Glad you think so," I say. "You're the only one I'm trying to impress."
Her lips quirk up, but only for a second before her gaze drops to the sink where I've unconsciously started to massage my hand under the stream of warm water. "Is it bothering you?"
"Oh, it's fine. A little stiff today, that's all."
"From shooting again yesterday?"
