Fuck, I didn’t want to think about that.
Finally ready to get up, I stretched until the tips of my toes hung off the bed, then I set to getting myself ready to start the day. I took a shower, brushed my teeth with a spare toothbrush that had magically appeared on the counter still in the package,then I made Riggs’s bed, poured myself some coffee into a tumbler that had magically been left out on the counter beside the pot. The hoodie I’d accidentally stolen from him the day I got tattooed sat neatly folded on the edge of the counter, and I wondered if it was meant for me to take too. I wagered the answer was yes, so I tugged it over my head and then headed down to the shop.
I was worried about judgmental looks from whoever was downstairs, but none came. Both of the new artists Riggs had hired were there. One of them, Merrick, looked up when the stairs creaked, taking a break to wipe some ink off the wrist of his client.
“Good morning,” he greeted me, sounding like sunshine incarnate.
The other artist, Holden, looked up and said nothing. His stare wasn’t judgmental, but it was curious and it was heavy. I swallowed past my own discomfort and returned Merrick’s hello.
“You heading out?” Riggs asked, stretching some cling film over a rolling steel tray. “I see you found the hoodie. You look good in it.”
Heat burned my cheeks.
“And coffee,” he said before I could reply.
I raised the mug in his direction and finally found the will to speak. “Thank you.”
“And the toothbrush?”
Behind me, Merrick choked, and the sound of his tattoo machine filled the air. I cleared my throat, smiling at Riggs.
“Got it all, thank you.”
“So I’ll see you tonight then?”
“I’ll be ready,” I said.
His nostrils flared, and I realized too late how many different meanings the statement could have.
“I can’t wait.”
Riggs’s stare drifted down my body, lingering on my cock before slowly skating back up to my face. For a man who could take or leave sex, he was certainly dripping with it most of the time.
“Bye,” I blurted awkwardly, slipping out beneath the pass in the counter and bolting out the front door. The sound of Merrick’s machine followed me out the door, and I scrubbed a hand down my face as the cool morning air hit me on the sidewalk. I didn’t stop, powerwalking to my car and heading to Finn’s on autopilot.
The front door was cracked open when I arrived, and I took it for the invitation I knew it to be. In the foyer, I toed off my shoes and closed the door behind me. I dropped my things into the bowl on the side table, on top of Finn’s wallet and keys, then I headed into the house to find him.
Finn was in the kitchen, wearing sweatpants and a weathered t-shirt from a college he de hadn’t attended. His hair stuck up in every direction like he either just woke up or someone had been tugging at it. I didn’t want to know which. When he heard me, he looked up and smiled, and I realized—with some regret—it was the first time he’d looked himself in weeks. He and I weren’t the closest. He’d always been attached to Hunter, but I felt like a horrible brother, not realizing something had been wrong with him until I saw him acting right again.
“You look well rested,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“You don’t.”
He rolled his eyes at me, then gestured dismissively to the spread he had on the kitchen counter. There were two naked pizza crusts, bags of shredded cheese, sliced mushrooms, and much to my amusement, a can of anchovies.
“I thought you didn’t like tinned fish.”
“I thought anchovies on pizza were a thing,” he said.
“I asked for a tuna melt. That’s not quite the same.”
Finn sighed heavily at me, feigning annoyance. “You aren’t obligated to use every topping on your pizza, baby brother. There’s pepperoni in the fridge. I just haven’t gotten it out yet.”
I scratched the corner of my mouth, trying to hide my smile from my brother.
“I’ll have both.”
He looked smug. “I knew it.”
