Page 64 of Repairing the Wreckage

“Pax wants to throw a big welcome home party for you at some point.”

“Please, no.” I can’t have any pictures taken until after the reunion show. Besides that, I’m too fucking embarrassed to show my face anywhere yet. Not because of my injuries. Because I lost to the biggest dumbass in the house and whenever that episode airs, everyone will know it.

“Can we do it sometime when it’s just our crew?” I don’t need a bunch of strangers in my business.

He tilts his head in his obnoxious way. “Having your moody ass there might be a big draw for Zips. Pax could use some more legit business.”

“Really?” I cock my head. “Second-place finisher from a third-rate reality show?”

“This is backwater New York.” He cough-laughs. “A D-list celebrity is still pretty exciting.”

“More like Z list,” I grumble and fall against the couch. Fabric rustles over my shoulders. The blanket Molly and I snuggled under not that long ago in this very spot. Instead of Molly’s familiar cherry-vanilla scent, the carefully woven yarn now smells like detergent.

“If you’re looking for a pity party, I can’t help you.”

“I’ll tell Pax I need some time. Right now, I look like hot garbage.”

“Nah.” He waves his hand in the air, dismissing my concern. “You look like a warrior. Girls love that shit.”

I glare at him. “Only one girl’s opinion matters to me.”

He does that guilty shift of his eyes again. “You plannin’ to stay over, or you want me to drive you home?”

I toss the blanket toward the end of the couch. “You mind if I stay?”

“Nooo,” he answers slowly. “I said you could move in and take over the basement.”

“But I’d need to bleach all the surfaces.” I blink at him with complete innocence. “And pry the mirror off the ceiling.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’d say move into the back bedroom down here, but it’s still crammed full of Nana’s stuff.”

“I don’t know if I can do the basement stairs right now.”

“You want me to install one of those stair lift things for you?”

I burst out laughing. “What’s wrong? Are you lonely without Molly around?”

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows. “Lonely? No.”

“I’ll think about it.” I lift my chin. “Who’s gonna help me move all my shit?”

“You mean your one bed, one dresser, sad little collection of clothes, nightstands, and TV? I think we’ll manage.” He gestures toward the basement. “It’s furnished. You can sell your stuff if you want.”

“How much rent are you gonna charge me?”

“We’ll work something out.”

I stand and stretch. “Thanks.”

Remy stands and faces me. “For?”

“Watching that with me.” I tilt my head toward the TV. “I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

He studies me for so long, I drop onto the couch cushions and wait for his judgment.

“They did you dirty, for sure.” He works his jaw from side to side. “At the time, I didn’t know what the fuck to think. You see how they made it look.”

It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.

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