“Well, hello there, sleepyhead,” says Eli, smirking. “Thanks for gracing us with your presence this morning!”
Landon shoots him a glare. “I’ve been up since five, dipshit. How about you?”
“Oh, I’ve been up since nine, like most non-psychopaths.”
Landon pushes past his brother and grabs one of the lesser mugs out of the cabinet, filling it with coffee from the pot. He drinks it black, eyes shifting to me for the first time. He doesn’t say anything, but neither do I, and the silence is palpable.
We haven’t discussed our encounter in the country club bathroom, and I don’t think either of us intends to. Nope. I’m perfectly fine going about my days, never ever mentioning the super awkward breakdown I had in his arms or the mascara stains I left on his designer shirt. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to bring up anything he said or did, either. Definitely not the apology. Absolutely nothing to admit he possesses an actual heart inside that strangely hard chest and that it’s not just a black hole of despair.
I look at Eli. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
Eli tips back the rest of his coffee and tosses the mug in the sink so carelessly that Landon actually flinches.
“Ready,” he says.
Landon looks between us again with a frown. “Where exactly are you two going?”
“To move someone else’s furniture, apparently,” says Eli. I whack him on the arm, and he grins at me, reaching out to ruffle my hair in that way I hate. I duck and dodge him, hopping to the other side of the island.
Landon watches us, unamused. “Explain.”
Sighing, I turn toward him. “My new roommate’s last roommate left their bed in the room I’m renting. I’d rather buy my own than use someone else’s, so Eli’s going to help me chuck it.”
“He is?” Landon asks flatly.
I shrug. “Yeah, he has a truck.”
“Yeah, I have a truck,” Eli echoes.
Landon doesn’t respond, and judging by the sour set of his mouth, he’s not all that happy with my explanation. I wonder if he’s thinking about that conversation we had at the hospital—the one where he accused me of wanting to sleep with his brother.
“Well, let’s get this over with.” I edge toward the door.
Eli pats his brother’s shoulder. “I’d invite you to join, bro, but we all know how much you hate doing a job you can just pay someone else to do.”
I don’t hear what Landon says next, but considering his tone, I’m sure it’s not flattering.
The drive to the Sunny View Apartment Complex takes sixteen minutes.
“There,” I say, pointing to a building up ahead. Nodding, Eli pulls the truck off the main road, past a sad-looking sign that readsWelcome to Sunny View, and into a gravel parking lot filled with beat-up cars.
Okay. So, there’s not going to be any Corvettes or Mercedes in this lot. That’s cool. That’s great. That’s fine. I went my whole life without seeing any of those brands and never had a problem.
“You’re sure this is the place?” asks Eli, leaning his big body over the wheel as he eyes the apartment dubiously.
“Yup, this is it,” I say cheerily.
“It’s not very sunny, is it?” he mutters. “And there’s not much of a view.”
Ignoring him, I throw open the door and hop down from the truck. Okay, so the place is a little more rundown than anticipated. Like, way more run down. But I’m sure the interior is nice, and Sarah seemed decent enough from my brief conversation with her. I was never going to find perfection, and the rent is cheap, it’s a ten-minute drive to work, and it’s available now. I’d be stupid not to take it.
“Violet, I’m not sure about this,” Eli mutters, following me up the stairs to the second floor of the complex. All of the apartments have exterior access to the outside—kind of like a motel, though I’d never say that aloud.
“Oh, it’s fine,” I assure him. “Sarah’s really nice, trust me.”
At least, I hope she is.
When we arrive at apartment 210, I knock lightly on the sea-green-colored door before stepping back to wait. Eli leans against the railing, eyeing a couple guys smoking at the end of the hall with what I’m sure is misplaced suspicion.
