Page 39 of Close Quarters

“Fuck,” he snorted. “If it didn’t mean we would have been in the deepest shit imaginable, I would have wanted to see that. The expression on her face and everyone else’s who heard would have been great.”

“Yeah,” I drew out and then snorted. “But somehow I thought that telling her we...well, telling her what happened would probably be the bad option.”

“Also thought you might tell Riley or Dom…especially Dom.”

“Now, hold on,” I told him, stopping as we reached the door to our cabin. “I know I talk a lot, and I can blurt shit out, but that doesn’t mean I have a big mouth. I know how to keep quiet about shit.”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “That was what I was trying to say.”

“It sounded more like you giving me shit.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“Alright, well, you can say it differently. That might help.”

His jaw tensed as he stared at me for a few heartbeats before grunting and looking away. “Fine, whatever. I was wrong. I didn’t give you enough credit. Now I am.”

Not exactly the most flawlessly humble thing in the world, but from Reno, it was practically award-worthy, so I’d take it. In fact, it made me smile, and I reached out to squeeze his arm above the elbow before opening the door, which was the quickest way for me to stop and stare at what sat before us.

“Aw hell, I forgot about that,” I said with a sigh. In the face of the distraction of dinner and conversation, I’d almost forgotten the mess we’d left behind. Thankfully, I hadn’t lied to Mona; only one chair was broken, but we had knocked things all over the place. If anyone had been there to see the mess, there would have been even less doubt that we’d fought each other.

“Well, we might as well get started cleaning it up,” he said with a grunt. “Because if you think it looks like a lot to clean up now, just wait until you’re tired and sore tomorrow after working.”

“I’m tired and sore now,” I complained, closing the door behind us.

He turned, scowling. “More tired and sore.”

“I can’t decide if I’m going to be worse or better tomorrow.”

“We’re both going to be worse tomorrow. So, even more reason to suck it up and do it now.”

“You’re right,” I admitted, shoulders sagging. “I don’t want you to be right, and I hate you for being right but fuck me?—”

“I don’t think you can stand another dose,” he muttered, picking up the broken chair legs and then the chair itself. “I’m putting this outside.”

“Easy for you to say,” I told him as I picked up things to put them back where they belonged. “You’re not the one with a sore ass.”

I expected a snide or unhappy comment, but I was given a faint chuckle as he opened the door, setting the chair beside the stairs and stacking the two broken legs atop it. At the very least, it was a sign he wasn’t pissed off about what happened, but that still left me curious about where his mental state was at the moment. He didn’t seem too unhappy about what happened but didn’t seem thrilled.

As we cleaned, I watched him, trying to catch his expression and measure what could be going through his head. The problem was, even when he wasn’t looking pissed off, his face was pretty stony and hard to read. Even the few times I caught him looking my way, his expression never changed, never gave anything away. I had never met someone so maddeningly expressionless before, and I wondered what had happened to him that made him that way.

I had to pick up his mattress and shove it back into place, adjusting his sheets carefully so they were neat again. As I tucked the last corner in, a glimmer caught my eye, and I crouched to find a necklace with what appeared to be a silver rectangle dangling from it. Curious, I picked it up and turned it around in my hand while Reno scrubbed blood off the floor.

Seeing a seam, I tucked my nail into it and pushed it slightly. It opened, and I realized it was a locket with two pictures. One was clearer than the other. Reno, not much younger than the one scrubbing the floor with a woman beside him, her hair a lighter shade of red, but both had bright, wide smiles. The other was a much younger Reno, I guessed in his mid-teens, sitting on a porch with an older woman, smiling at the camera as they held glasses.

“Umm, I think this is yours,” I said, turning around to hold it out to him.

Reno looked up, and the expressionless mask on his face slipped. I saw two things, panic and anger. I knew we were allowed private items, so long as they weren’t dangerous. Most guys tended to keep theirs openly or nearby, but I had never seen this in Reno’s stuff before. Clearly, he’d hidden it, and his reaction didn’t surprise me.

“I didn’t know what it was,” I said softly, hoping not to set him off. “So I opened it, but it’s okay. There’s no damage.”

The white-knuckle grip he had on the brush eased before he let out a breath. Taking another one, he stood up and allowed me gently to drop the necklace into his hand. His fingers closed around it carefully, holding it tight as he drew his fist close to him, staring at it.

“I wasn’t trying to go through your stuff,” I told him.

He looked up at me, lips twisting. “Yeah. You can be pushy, but you’ve never set foot on my side of the cabin. At least not till today.”

“I think that doesn’t count,” I said, trying for a smile. “Considering we were both all over the place.”

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