Her face relaxes until her lips are in a little pout of a frown. “It was just a job.” She’s still worried that I know she was a stripper.
“Lucy, I’m not asking you to defend yourself for working for Winger. If you cut up bunnies or robbed banks, I wouldn’t care. I would still want you.”
I think maybe I went too far when she gives me a horrified expression. “I would never cut up bunnies.” I shrug because it really doesn’t matter to me. “And it’sworkedfor Wing. I don’t work there anymore,” she adds with her chin tipped in the air.
I grin, knowing that’s a good thing for everyone. More than once, some fucker got a beatdown for getting a little too friendly with her at the club. If someone touched her now, it would definitely be a death sentence. I pretty much gave the club to Winger after I couldn’t be there while she worked anymore without setting the place and everyone in it on fire. I don’t have any plans of taking it back, especially now.
She rubs her hands over my shoulders gently and looks back and forth between my eyes. “You really already knew and don’t care?” She sounds a little suspicious, maybe even disbelieving.
“I’m not going to judge you for it, Lucy. Ever,” I promise.
“Okay,” she whispers, and I pull her closer so my face is against her stomach. I think about telling her who and what I am, about using the advantage of her secrets coming out to uncover mine, but it’s a fleeting thought. She doesn’t need to know. My life as Rex will never touch her.
Chapter 21
It feels weird walking out of Rafe’s bedroom with my hand folded in his to meet Winger in the kitchen. He’s sitting at one of the bar stools and focusing on the countertop as if it holds the answers to the universe. My cheeks flame red when I catch sight of him. I danced in front of the man nearly naked for two years, but standing in the hallway in a sheet is so much more embarrassing. I can’t even bear to look at him, even though I’m fully dressed, so I keep my eyes lowered.
Rafe told me I could just stay in his room and wait for him, but that seemed worse. I’m rethinking that now, becausethisfeels worse.
“I shouldn’t have come by without talking to you first,” Winger tells Rafe, and it’s the closest thing to an apology I’ve ever heard him say to anyone. It takes me by surprise.
Are they friends? They must be. I wonder if Rafe has ever been to The Dollhouse. That thought makes my stomach hurt. I look over at Rafe as he tows me to one of the couches. Should I ask him? God, I don’t want to know.
“I get it. Usually, it wouldn’t be a problem,” Rafe replies. He doesn’t say it’s okay though. That makes me think he wouldn’t typically have someone here with him. That’s a good thing. Or I may be putting too much thought into it.
“Everything good, Fel?”
“Lucy,” I blurt. “Please call me Lucy.” Winger nods, slowly assessing me while waiting for my response. “It’s good, I’m good… I didn’t know you two knew each other.” I wasn’t even planning on saying that, it just came out.
“For a long time,” Rafe murmurs, relaxing back on the couch all comfortable, like this isn’t the weirdest thing ever. How freaking small is the world that both of mine would collide like this?
Winger sits across from us on the other side of the U-shaped sofa. I want to fidget, but I force myself not to. I feel like I just got caught doing something naughty by my uncle. Rafe tugs me back by my shirt until I’m nestled next to him. Winger doesn’t react, but my heart rate picks up. This is weird.
“I’ll handle that situation tomorrow,” Rafe says cryptically. He must be referring to the conversation they were having before I interrupted them. I didn’t even get a chance to hear what they were talking about. As soon as I heard Winger’s voice, I kind of freaked out and blurted his name.
“Good, I don’t want it to cause a problem here.” Winger leans back on his own sofa, getting comfortable, but he’s staring at Rafe like his words have a very specific meaning. I feel like I’m intruding.
“It’s really late,” I insert, looking over at Rafe. “I should get home. I can call an Uber.”
“Where’s your truck—”
“You’re not calling an Uber,” Rafe chastises over Winger’s question.
“Rafe picked me up.”
Winger’s eyebrows shoot up on his forehead, and he looks back at the man next to me. “Rafe?”
“What?” The way Winger reacted makes me think Rafe is lying to me about his name. I glance back and forth between the two of them.
“I don’t tell many people my real name. He’s just shocked. And being a dick.” Rafe stares his friend down.
“Many people? Try no one.” Winger’s shoulders relax back into the sofa, and he loses some of the tension in his face, as if finding out that bit of information eases him. I’m sure happy to know I’m not being lied to. I feel special knowing I’m one of the few who knows his real name. I don’t know why he would hide it though.
“I can drive you home,” Winger offers.
“No, you can’t,” Rafe snaps and glares at Winger. “I will take you home. You” —he points at Winger— “stay here.”
“You got it, boss.”
