But now it’s not enough. Not anymore. I need… someone to know, to understand. I need Amber to understand. It’s never been so important to me before.
I want to wrap myself in her and just be.
“Then I returned to the apartment. I went to get my bottle of brandy, and it was fucking gone. Fucking roommates.”
“They took it?”
“Assholes.” What a clusterfuck. I can’t look at her, too raw, too pissed. Tonight of all nights… “They can’t respect my stuff. It’s not the first time. Just because they have money and can buy more of whatever they feel like at any moment doesn’t mean I can, too. Fuckers.” I realize I’m shaking again, and I don’t know why. “I punched Gage, and he gave as good as he got, then Travis got between us. Sorry, Embers. I’m just…”
I shake my head, unable to explain anything, and turn my baseball cap around, hiding my face in the shadow of the brim.
She squeezes my hands again and I force myself to lift my head and meet her eyes. She doesn’t look upset by my cursing and strange mood. She only looks… thoughtful.
“Come with me,” she says and gets to her feet, pulling on my hands until I get up and follow her. She leads me out of the kitchen and into the empty living room. My feet drag, heavy as stones. I’m suddenly so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open as she tugs me to the sofa and pushes me down on it.
I land with an oof on the lumpy cushions. “Decided to satisfy your burning curiosity after all?”
“Curiosity?” She doesn’t join me on the sofa, which should be a big fat hint she isn’t really interested, but I’m too tired to care and to stop my mouth from spewing words.
“About the size of my dick.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt you are a big dick.” She shakes her head. She’s a quick study, this girl. “Stay here.”
I open my mouth to ask where she’s going, then openly stare at her pretty ass encased in a mini-mini jeans skirt as she leaves the room.
She returns, holding a bottle in her hands.
A bottle of brandy.
This time she does climb onto the sofa next to me, curls by my side like a cat, tucking her feet under her, and unscrews the top of the bottle. She raises it toward me, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that resonates inside me, because my heart hammers against my ribs.
“To Helen,” she whispers, and I take the brandy bottle blindly from her hand.
Saluting her, I take a long swig straight from the bottle to drown whatever it is that’s welling inside me. It feels like a tidal wave that’s gonna pull me under.
“To Helen,” I say.
Thank you for saving me when I had nobody. I won’t forget you.
***
“Do you have to work early tomorrow?” She’s curled under my arm, just like a kitten, big blue eyes staring up at me. The brandy bottle has ended up half-empty, and I’m clutching it at my other side.
“Nah. Did my two cleaning shifts this week, and I have no training tomorrow.” I let my head fall back on the backrest of the sofa. “Dammit. Zane’s pushing me to do more pieces, and I’ll fuck up, I just know it.”
“He’s your teacher. If he thinks you’re ready, then you fucking up is his problem.”
“Yeah, right. You think if I lose him a customer, and worse still, if I give his shop a bad name, he won’t chuck me out?”
She sits up and makes a grab for the bottle. I let her have her. After all, it’s hers. “No, I really don’t think he’ll chuck you out. What’s more, I don’t think he’ll let you do any real damage. He’ll be there, won’t he?”
She has a point. How can I make her understand my fear? “I always screw up. I was placed with a couple families over the years.” I roll my head away from her. “They couldn’t deal with me.”
“Bastards,” she mutters, and I blink in shock. I turn back toward her, needing to see her face, sure she’s making fun of me.
She looks dead serious and kinda pissed. Cute, too. Sexy.
Damn.