“Wasn’t a compliment.”
We make it up the steps somehow. I fumble for my keys, drop them twice before she takes them from me.
“Which one?”
“Silver. No, the other—yeah, that one.”
She gets the door open, and we stumble inside. The place is dark, smells like dust and stale air. I haven’t been here in weeks.
She flips the light switch. Nothing happens.
“Fantastic,” she breathes.
“Breaker’s in the kitchen. Left cabinet.”
She helps me to the couch first, dumps me there roughly, then disappears. I hear her moving around, opening cabinets. A minute later, the lights flicker on.
She comes back, and I get my first clear look at her under the harsh overhead light.
Younger than I thought. Early twenties, maybe. Dark circles under her eyes like she hasn’t slept in days. A bruise on her jaw that’s a few days old, yellowing at the edges. And that scent—that fucking marshmallow scent that shouldn’t make my head spin the way it does.
“Take off your shirt,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Buy me dinner first.”
She doesn’t smile. “You need to see how bad it is. And I need to see if I’m about to watch you bleed out on this couch. If you do, maybe point me in the direction of where you keep your cash.”
I let out a harsh laugh that stings.
“You’re a thief huh?” I exhale with an exhausted smirk.
“Shirt off or die.”
I try to pull my shirt off, but my shoulder screams in protest. She sighs, steps closer, and helps me. Her fingers brush against my skin—cool, steady, that scent intensifies.
Marshmallows and something else underneath. Something warm.
Focus, Maksim.
She peels the fabric away carefully, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.
“Like the ink?” I manage, voice rough.
“You’ve got road rash from your shoulder to your elbow, and—” She leans closer, examining my ribs. “Yeah, that’s a bullet graze. Shallow, but you’re going to need stitches.”
She pauses, her cold fingers grazing lower. She sighs.
“You got hit.”
Fuck.
“No hospitals.”
“I heard you the first time.” She straightens, hands on her hips. “You got a first aid kit in this place?”
“Bathroom down the hall. Under the sink.”
She disappears again. I lean back against the couch, let my eyes close for just a second.
