“What’s up with your brother and ED?” I ask Jagger.
Ford gasps. “Hey, it’s a very serious disease?—”
“You’ve already told me this,” I remind him, planting my hand on my hip.
“And it’s just as true now as it was then.”
I snort. “Keep on walking, buddy.”
As we follow him upstairs, I don’t miss the way Jagger slows his speed to keep up with my snail’s pace. It’s not that I’m tired, it’s just…well, my ribs hurt, okay? Pressing my hand to my side while keeping my opposite on the railing, I finish the never-ending trek to the second floor, and when we finally make it to my new apartment, Ford has already set the last box onto the kitchen table.
“Oooo, what is this?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen like he owns it.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
Jagger leaves my side, disappearing into my bedroom, though I’m too distracted by his younger brother to ask where he’s going.
Searching through the drawers, Ford grabs the knife June had been using and starts slicing himself a piece of sourdough. “You’re excused.”
“Sorry,” Roman apologizes for him. “Seems Harden Estate raises more animals than Old McDonald himself.”
My mouth lifts. “Good to know.”
“By the way, who’s in the shower?” Roman adds.
“My new roommate,” I explain before my eyes bulge. “Please tell me you didn’t walk in on her.”
“Nah, we left your bathroom stuff on your bed. That a problem?”
“No, that’s perfect.” I hesitate, twisting my fingers in front of me. “And thank you,” I add. “Seriously. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to handle it. I mean, I would’ve if I had no choice, but?—”
“No problem, Violet.” Roman’s heavy footsteps reverberate through the kitchen as he moves closer while eyeing my face with the same level of concern as Jagger had. The only thing missing is the heat. No, this is more…sterile, maybe? I’m not sure, but I don’t miss the resignation simmering beneath. Roman’s from The Drift. He knows being smacked around is more common than either of us wants to admit. Yet, even with that knowledge, seeing it firsthand isn’t exactly a picnic. “Glad you’re okay,” he adds, quietly.
“Thanks, Roman. And, uh, me, too.”
“Holy shit, this is good,” Ford mumbles through a mouthful of bread. Either he’s oblivious to our conversation or he simplydoesn’t give a shit. I’m not sure which option I’d prefer, though neither would surprise me. The man’s clearly self-centered, but the more I get to know him, the less I can picture Ford any other way. It’s almost endearing…almost. He steals another bite of bread. “Did you make this?”
The idea alone is laughable. I don’t bake. I don’t cook. Hell, I don’t even buy perishables. It’s not that I don’t like homemade food or things that aren’t canned, it’s just that I’ve learned if I only have so many hours in the day, it’s best spent working, studying, and maybe, if I’m lucky, hanging out with Lexie, too. Add in the fact that I had the crap kicked out of me last night, and I’m not sure when I would’ve had the time to whip up a loaf of heaven like the one June created. Eyeing the bread in question, my mouth waters at the reminder of my first bite before the guys arrived. “No,” I answer Ford. “No, I did not make it."
“Shame. I would’ve paid you five grand for the recipe right here, right now.” He cuts another slice, then steps over the exit, giving me a half-assed wave over his shoulder. “Bye, Vi.”
Bye, asshole.
“See ya later, Violet,” Roman says. He disappears out the front door, leaving me alone with a very sexy Jagger. Well, kind of. I peer down the hallway again. Where the heck is he?
“Jagger?” I call.
He reappears from my room. “I put a bottle of pain killers on your night stand. There should be a bag of frozen peas in your freezer, too.”
“Really?”
“Should be,” he returns. “I told Roman to stock it with a few. Keep your face iced as much as possible and take it easy.” He pauses. “But only ten to twenty minutes at a time. Any longer can cause more damage than help.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say. I’m not used to people taking care of me. Not last night. Not today. Not at all. For most, it probably feels normal. But for me? I don’t know. I can’t help but feel…confused? Grateful?
“Get some rest,” he repeats. Heading toward the door, he taps his knuckles against the jamb, adding, “See you around, Violet.”
As he disappears, leaving me alone in the quiet kitchen, I breathe out, “See you.”
