It was weird, quite frankly.
"Why?"
"I don't think I even gave them my address to send a bill."
"Don't worry about the funeral home," he said, voice abnormally guarded.
"What do you mean, don't worry about the funeral home? They need to get paid, Edison. I really don't need them sending me to collections."
"It won't go to collections."
"Of course it will. If I don't pay."
"It's already paid."
"It couldn't be. I didn't..."
And then it hit me.
And fuck no.
I mean, it was sweet and everything.
Too sweet.
But no.
I always made my own way.
I always took care of myself.
And I damn sure didn't want Edison thinking that I needed things from him financially.
If there was one way to kill a budding... whatever we were, that was it.
"What?" I hissed, shaking my head, not quite sure he meant exactly what he said. I mean, did he just put a deposit down for me so I could work it out when I was in my right mind? That would be, well, okay. I would pay him back for it. But it was a nice gesture. I was clearly not functioning enough to remember things like payment plans.
He couldn't have meant he paid for it paid for it.
Funerals ran, what? Six to eight grand?
No way.
"I don't want to hear anything about it," he told me, his body going tense. "It's done. It's handled. We're moving past it."
So, yeah, that wasn't deposit talk.
That was I paid for the whole thing, and I don't want you to get your feathers ruffled about it talk.
"Edison, no," I said, shaking my head. "I mean, that is incredibly sweet of you, but no. I will go and see about a payment plan, and have them give you a refund or something."
They wouldn't like that, but that was too fucking bad. I mean, how can they expect you to figure shit like that out when you were just days into losing someone who might have meant the world to you?
"We're not talking about this," he growled at me, getting up to walk away.
"Um, don't fucking growl at me, Edison," I demanded, making him turn back to me, face blank, everything about him saying to let it drop. But me, well, when did I ever listen? "What? You think because you get all growly and go all stubborn biker at me that you are going to get your way? Sorry, buddy, but I'm not one of those girls."
"Buddy?" he asked, lips twitching. "And what girls?"
I had a feeling he was purposely trying to lead me away from my main point, but I blindly followed him anyway.
"Those girls. The chicks who bow and kowtow just because your fucking voice is deeper. No. We're talking about this. Because this isn't going to work for me."
"It's already done."
Christ, he was a pain in the ass.
I guess this was what it was like to deal with me.
Taste of my own medicine, in a way.
"Fine. Then I will pay you back."
"No."
"This isn't a discussion," I told him, crossing my arms.
"It's a discussion until you give in."
"Then I'm afraid we will be talking until the end of time."
"Lenny, give it the fuck up."
"Edison, stop being so ridiculous," I countered, lifting my chin.
"I have the money."
"That changes nothing. It doesn't mean that you should be covering my bills. And this isn't a bill. This was funeral costs. For my sister. This is not your responsibility. You don't go around dropping more than five-thousand dollars on someone you barely know."
"Barely know?" his voice cracked across the silence in my apartment. I had a feeling just then that I had finally done it; I had finally pushed the wrong button.
He moved across the room toward me, not stopping until our toes were almost touching, making me need to turn my head up to keep eye-contact.
"I know what you're like in your day-to-day life, how you throw that attitude around. Sometimes to people who deserve it, like the fucks at your work. But sometimes just because you like getting a rise out of people. I've seen your determination and your focus at the gym. I've seen you drunk and flirtatious. I've seen you tipsy and chilling with my brothers. I've seen you have a sass contest with Adler. I've seen your eyes dance at the idea of getting to educate me about cereal. I've seen you pissed and wary when I got under your guards. I've seen you completely lose yourself in grief."
Okay. He did sort of have a good argument there. He had seen a lot in a short time.
"I know what it feels like to have your tears soak my shirt, what it is like to force food between your lips. I know the feel of you against me when I needed to drag you into the shower and wash your hair and body. I know what your bad dreams sound like. I know what your shit mother did to you and Letha growing up. I know how much she meant to you. I know all of this is falling on deaf ears because every piece of shit man who has crossed your path in your life has only succeeded in bolstering your idea that men can not be trusted or depended on, that you are better off without them."