The body keeps the score even after the brain checks out.
Six years of this.
Six years of loyalty to the kid I sliced palms with and swore I’d pick over everyone forever.
The door creaks open again, and I half expect Benny to waltz back in, but then I hear humming.
Genevieve.
Her hair’s twisted into a chaotic mess, red pieces escaping everywhere. Her earbuds are in, and she’s singing—if you can call it that—completely off-key, her head bobbing while she pushes a mop across the concrete, dragging it in long, steady strokes like she’s scrubbing history out of the floor.
She looks ridiculous.
But also, she looks light. I’m used to seeing her with a scowl on her face, but right now, she just seems like a girl with a mop, murdering a song I don’t recognize.
My heart does a weird twist, and I shove it down immediately.
Annoying.That’s what she is.
It pisses me off she isn’t aware of her surroundings in the least.
It also pisses me off she’s here in general.
Fucking Art.Asking me to keep an eye on his girl, not telling me he gave her new responsibilities.
She spins around and our eyes lock, and she yelps, swinging the mop handle like she’s trying to kill me with it.
I don’t move, just watch her with the tape looped lazily between my fingers.
She drops the mop and it clatters, skidding across the floor and rolling beneath my feet. She yanks her headphones out, eyes narrowed likeIwas the one interruptingher.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I quirk a brow. “I was here first.”
“Yeah, well, maybe make a noise next time so you don’t give someone a heart attack.”
“Not my fault you were too busy serenading the bleach bucket to notice me.”
Her cheeks flame red. “I wasn’t even really singing,dick.”
“You’re telling me that wasn’t your normal voice? Thank God.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
I nudge the mop with my foot. “What were you planning to do with that thing anyway, bludgeon someone to death?”
“It could be a weapon if I needed it to be.”
“I could have knocked you off balance in two seconds flat.”
“Whatever,” she says. “What are you doing down here anyway?”
“Training.”
“Oh.”
Silence settles between us, neither of us wanting to acknowledge the truth: I’m down here to prepare for the same thing she’s cleaning for.
