The pad of her finger swipes over the scar, making me flinch. “Yeah, it helps.” I capture her hand, kissing across her knuckles, the heat bearing down causing us both to sweat.
“Does Noah smoke?” She moves her leg farther over mine, the heat of her pussy sending a pulse of arousal surging through me.
“No. He likes to keep the lights on up top. Certain things trigger Noah. He doesn’t like the fog.”
She contemplates what I’ve said for a few silent beats, then, “He told me what happened,” she murmurs, her fingers dancing over the fabric of my t-shirt.
“Oh yeah?” I drop my gaze to her hand, circling lower.
“I still can’t make sense of it, of the why. Do you think if I ask Father, he will tell me?”
Grunting, I say, “He’s never been forthcoming with us. It’s a hard topic, but he told you about his work, so who the fuck knows.”
I hold back a groan as her fingertips play at the waistband of my jeans. I should have put some shorts on or taken the jeans off.
“What do you make of what he does?” The weed has made her inquisitive instead of mellowing her the fuck out.
Typical.
“It’s just always been part of our life. He was born with a weird as fuck blood type and a heart murmur. It got him interested in the science of it all and medicine. If he needed a heart later in life, he would have almost zero chance of getting one.”
“Golden blood. He told me about that,” she says absentmindedly.
“Doing good has always been in his nature, being a doctor then surgeon, but instead of feeding that part of himself, it depleted him. The rules and criteria to get on a transplant list are a joke, and turning people away with no hope nearly destroyed him, so he found a balance he could live with.”
“Illegally practicing…” Her brow puckers.
I drag a lazy hand up her arm, tickling her skin. “He took from the bad and gave to the good, the worthy and who could pay. You can’t do anything without money in this world. Eventually, it led him into the darker places and criminal underworld. His reputation grew. They call him The Surgeon. It’s kinda creepy.”
“When you say took from the bad?” She lifts up onto her elbow, searching my eyes.
“He doesn’t hurt innocent people. Whatever he needs comes from someone undeserving of their life.”
She stiffens, her heartbeat thundering against my ribs. Fully sitting up, she darts toward a hedge, spewing up her guts.
“You okay?” I jump up, going to her and grasping her hair away from her face. Her small body retches, the plants getting watered.
“Yeah. I think I smoked too much,” she croaks.
“Let’s get a drink and some food.” I wrap an arm around her, helping her inside. The combination of the sun and the weed turned her a little green.
Entering the kitchen, I raid the fridge, groaning that there’s nothing prepared. Dominque had been here less and less lately, and I hated cooking for myself.
“We should order some takeout,” I suggest, watching Freya guzzle down a bottle of water.
“Okay,” she pants, out of breath.
“Pizza?”
“Sure.”
“You sure you’re okay?” She looks pale as fuck.
“Yeah,” she assures me, holding her hand out for another bottle.
Handing it to her, I groan, “Shit got heavy again. Maybe we can watch a movie and save the questions for another day?”
“Sounds good.” She gives me a wry smile. Dropping a kiss to her temple, I sift out my phone to order food.
The alarm on the door across the kitchen turns green, then opens. Freya shifts her body until she’s almost plush with my side. Dad steps through, his face cutting in our direction.
“Hey,” he says, warily looking between us. “What’s going on?”
“We were looking for food. Dominque hasn’t prepared anything.” I sound like an entitled asshole.
“I gave her the week off. I’m moving some equipment. I explained this earlier.” His eyes keep darting to Freya.
“Okay. We’re going to order pizza.”
“Freya, are you okay with pizza?” Her eyes are trained on the open door behind him, her teeth almost puncturing her bottom lip, one arm wrapped around her waist.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. Moving toward us, the door behind him closes, clicking shut.
“I’m fine.” She snaps out of whatever was holding her hostage, offering a tight smile.
There’s an awkward pause before he says, “I’m going to be away for a few days, maybe a week. Think about what I said about college. I also took the liberty of setting you up a bank account and deposited money so you can do some shopping. You’ve grown a lot since last year. You’re outgrowing your clothes.” He frowns, dropping his gaze to her shorts. “I’ll leave an envelope with the card and details on the counter before I go.”
“Thank you.” She tries to look grateful, but her features are pinched. When he takes another step toward her, she recoils, turning further into me.