Page 68 of I’m Not Scared Omnibus

“Ares returned your truck. I drove the car.”

“So you did nothing?”

That stupid smirk that makes me want to punch his stupidly handsome face spreads across it. I never thought it would be possible to want to strangle someone and smell them at the same time. Clay always smells so fucking nice, and even that pisses me off. Why couldn’t he smell like the inside of a dirty shoe? It would make disliking him a lot easier.

“I got up at five and drove across town, all so you could sleep in and not have to worry.”

I open my mouth and snap it closed, trying to gather the right words. The man makes it so hard to be nice to him.

“You’re welcome,” he says as he steals my last piece of bacon and takes a bite.

Vero is vibrating with energy across the table, his leg bouncing as he looks between the two of us. Brawley is eating his breakfast as if he couldn’t care less about our bickering, while Ares is watching us with those calculating eyes. I have learned to read him a little better and can see the amusement on his face.

“I want that back.”

Clay snorts. “But it’s gone.”

“Then I want replacement bacon.”

He stands up, taking my coffee cup and going to the stove. He comes back moments later and drops two pieces onto my plate, then sits back down, his leg finding mine again. I eat my bacon and don’t say anything else.

As I look around the kitchen, I know I should run. Yet for the first time in forever, I am in control of my life, making my own choices and doing what I think is right. It may bite me in the ass, but I am sick of being scared to make the wrong choice. If this all goes to shit, then so be it. But right now, being here doesn’t feel wrong; it feels like a step in the right direction. Not an action of manipulation. And although Ares is questionable, he is no real threat at this point in time.

Chapter Eight

Brawley

It has been a few days since Kayla returned, and I am waiting for her to leave again. If she did it once, she could do it again, and Vero isn’t strong enough to handle that happening. I don’t mention it to anyone, because saying it out loud would mean admitting that I care whether she stays, and I don’t know how I feel. Do I care because of Vero, or is she someone I might have feelings for as well? Logically, I know it’s not possible. I haven’t known her long enough, and unlike Vero, I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.

Right now, they are on the couch, and she is teaching Vero how to crochet. It is the single most boring thing I have witnessed in my entire life. He has yarn wrapped around both hands and is frowning at the hook, while she sits beside him with her legs crossed, trying to talk him through it.

I stand in the doorway for a moment and watch them. Kayla says something, and he laughs as he untangles his hands, then tries again. Yarn is on the couch, floor, and even on the lamp. She takes his hands and repositions them as he looks at her the same way he looks at me. My heart squeezes in my chest, and I can’t watch them any longer, so I decide to go for my nightly run. I love the island at this time of the evening; it’s peaceful and everyone has shut down from the day’s activities, but it’s still way too early for the nightlife. While violence is the best thing to help me stay calm, running also helps. I follow the perimeter of the island, and I’m coming past the freak museum when I see Banks sitting outside on an upturned crate. I slow down as I get closer, and he looks up when he hears me.

“Brawley.”

I stop. I have wanted to do this for four days, but I’ve talked myself out of it every time. “Banks.”

He doesn’t say anything else as I approach him, waiting for my next words.