I push that thought down fast.
She stares straight ahead, jaw tight, clearly weighing every word. Pride battles survival in her eyes.
Finally, she looks at me. “Why are you doing this?”
Her blue eyes search my face like she’s expecting a trap.
“’Cause my mama taught me to help out strays,” I say lightly. “Even when they look like cartoon fairies.”
“And Tinker?” She gives me her best side-eye.
“Who hurt you?”
She looks away. “No one.”
She doesn’t trust me, and I respect that.
I stand and head for the door.
“Three months,” she whispers.
I pause, hand on the frame. “Three months,” I confirm. “And you’ll have enough to land somewhere good.”
She nods, then adds quietly, “But I’m paying rent. Or you can take it out of my paycheck.”
She squares her shoulders, lips pursed, trying to reclaim control.
I just laugh and close the door behind me before she can argue.
Yeah.
Not gonna happen.
CHAPTER 6
Alexis
Two days pass as I ride out the fever in Dex’s guest bedroom.
I press the thermometer under my tongue and wait, staring at the wall until it beeps. When I pull it out, the number finally reads normal. My throat still aches, but it’s nothing like before, and for the first time since I arrived, my stomach growls faintly.
I pick up my phone and text Mason that my fever is gone and not to worry. He responds immediately, and I smile. I managed to call him for a few minutes yesterday, and we texted back and forth. Mason doesn’t like it when I’m not okay.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand carefully, testing my balance. No dizziness. No chills.
Progress.
I crack open the bedroom door and peek into the hall. It’s quiet. Early morning quiet. The clock on the wall reads seven a.m., which means Dex is probably still asleep.
Perfect.
I need a shower, and I really don’t want to run into him half dressed and grumpy.
This whole situation still feels unreal. Living in a stranger’s apartment. Sharing space with a man who clearly can’t stand me, even if he insists on helping me anyway.
I tiptoe down the hall and slip into the bathroom, locking the door behind me out of pure habit.
The bathroom is unmistakably his.
