Fighting for What's His (Warrior Fight Club 2)

He crossed to the kitchen counter, but no closer. Both because he didn’t trust himself and because she was throwing off that wariness like a fucking wall. “Well, go knock ‘em dead then.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Okay. Well. See ya.” She gave him another long look.

“See ya, Shay,” he said, looking right back.

Whole conversations passed between them. He just didn’t know what any of them meant.

Then she was gone. And it took everything he had inside him not to go after her. Because he had the shittiest, most foreboding feeling that she was never coming back. Which was bullshit, of course. And just a reflection of how bad he’d screwed up.

Not to mention a total gut check that he shouldn’t let it happen again.

Chapter Twelve

Was it bad luck to look for shelter on a website that otherwise featured offers of stained sofas and people seeking other people via dick pics and screeds in all-caps? Shayna really hoped not as she stood in front of the three-story brownstone which had a basement sublet that she’d found on that site.

After she’d gotten home yesterday from covering the unveiling of a new heritage walking trail in Southwest DC, she’d picked up where she’d left off the night before—looking at apartment listings and making some appointments to begin seeing them.

It was not going to be easy.

There were so many ways that housing could go wrong: crazed roommates with weird habits, unseen bugs, evil landlords, a family of rats taking up residence in your walls, or a whole host of weird noises, smells, or other quirks of an apartment you’d only learn about once you lived there.

All of which were among the reasons why she’d ruled out finding an apartment from a distance before she ever got to DC.

And if all of that weren’t enough, there was the intense competition for the best places. Shayna had already had one appointment cancel on her for a $950 studio near Gallaudet University in Upper Northeast—rented by someone else before she’d even seen it. And it had literally been the only available apartment under a thousand dollars per month located in the parts of the city where she most wanted to live.

If she absolutely had to, she could maybe go as high as $1,250 a month, but beyond that and she’d be in a position of deciding between repaying her student loans and eating.

Which brought her to the basement in the brownstone. She knocked on the front door, and a middle-aged woman almost immediately answered, a man hovering right behind her.

“Hi, I’m Shayna Curtis. I’m here about the sublet?”

“Hi, I’m Brenda, and this is my husband, Robert. Come on in,” the woman said. “Of course, the apartment has its own entrance, too. So, you wouldn’t come in this way typically.”

Shayna nodded and tried to peer around their part of the house just to get a feel for them. It was old in that quaint sort of way, but clean and nicely decorated. It gave her hope.

In the kitchen, Brenda unlocked a door, revealing a set of steps down.

There was no lock on the inside. That was the first thing Shayna noticed. So they could lock her out of the upstairs, but she couldn’t do the same.

Still, she determined to keep an open mind. They hovered as they hit the basement, pointing things out and watching her as she looked around the one-bedroom apartment. It was a cave with a low ceiling, small windows, white-cinder-block walls, and a beige carpet that had seen better days, but it was fairly spacious and the bathroom included a combined washer/dryer unit.

“Rent includes utilities except for phone and cable,” Brenda said. “We just ask that if you have to hold parties here, they end by eleven o’clock. It’s an old house and sound can travel.” Robert was still standing there, having not yet said a word. Which was a little weird. But, whatever.

Shayna nodded. “And it’s $1,050?”

Brenda arched an imperious eyebrow. “Yes. Is that going to be a problem?”

Annnd now the apartment was decorated in attitude.

Whoa, bitchtits. That’s what Shayna thought. But what she said was, “No, not at all.

” Because she could make this place work despite its cave-like qualities. “I have a few other appointments set up, but I should know within the next few days.”

The woman sighed audibly. “Very well. But know we have other appointments, too.”

“Of course,” Shayna said, itching to get out of there. She made for the door to what would be her private entrance, and the landlords followed. “Thank you for your time. Your apartment definitely has a lot of what I’m looking for.”

“Good luck,” the woman said, opening the door for her. Was she imagining it or was the man pleading with his eyes? The dynamic between them was kinda creepy.