Page 66 of Remy

I raise my gaze to his and wait for him to elaborate. The kid has been living with me since I found him sleeping in a dirty corner of the underground parking lot of my apartment building. Four easy months where I can’t recall him attending a party let alone showing interest in throwing one. I’m not sure he even has friends.

“You should’ve been there,” he taunts. “It was huge. The music was pumping. People were dancing. I even figured out how to unlock your liquor cabinet. You might just want to be patient while I clean up. It’s going to take days, if not weeks.”

I smirk. “Nice try, kid, but I’ve got eyes on that penthouse at all times.”

Disappointment takes over his features. “Really? Well, shit. I thought for sure a party would crack your annoying composure.” He sighs. “Why are you always so chill? My dad could never keep his temper. Even over the smallest things.”

“I’m not your dad.” I rest the folder on top of the metal porch railing and hold out a hand, indicating for the garment bag. Chill is far from what I’ve been these past twenty-four hours, but the last thing I want is him knowing what riles me. Or, more accurately, who. “Are you sure you got everything?”

He hands the clothes over. “Of course. Suit. Shirt. Socks. It didn’t skip my attention that you didn’t ask for underwear, which is gross, but you do you, man.”

I roll my eyes and unzip the garment bag.

“You got a woman in there?” He tips his head toward Ollie’s house, drags a vape from his pocket, and takes a puff.

“That’s none of your business. And didn’t I tell you to quit that smoking shit?”

“Probably.” He takes another inhale then releases the mint-scented toxic air. “I can’t remember.”

“I’m not kidding, Flynn. It’ll fuck up your lungs.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m not gonna lie, I feel kinda invincible since you started looking out for me.”

Dread worms its way into my gut. “My protection makes you far from invincible.” If anything my presence in his life is a threat, but it’s better than him dumpster diving for food.

“Don’t worry, boss. I can look after myself.”

I snatch the folder from the railing and the food bag from his arm. “Quit the vapes or we’ll be revisiting the boarding school discussion.”

His face falls, and he shoves the device back into his pocket.

I already tried to get him into a nearby school, but that shit didn’t stick. Apparently the kid is dyslexic and has a lifetime of judgement hanging off his shoulders. Not even the offer of expensive tutors was enough to get him to stick it out for longer than a day.

So I gave him a job instead. A glorified go-fer role.

He’s been on cloud-nine ever since. At least when he’s not trying to test my limits to see if I’ll kick him to the curb.

“You should get going.” I start for the house. “Keep your phone on in case I need anything else.”

“Sure thing. Will you be home tonight?”

I pause at the door, the thought of leaving Ollie unsupervised bringing unease. “I doubt it.”

I walk back into the house and find the woman in question standing in the kitchen still dressed in those cute pajamas, her hair pulled back in a messy pony as she eyes me over the steaming mug cradled in her hands.

“Morning.” I kick the door shut behind me.

“Morning,” she mutters into her drink.

Two syllables and eye contact. I guess it’s better than a glare and a verbal spray.

“I ordered breakfast.” I dump my haul on her dining table beside the cute pea-like plant centerpiece, determined to be civil, and fold the garment bag over the back of a chair. “You must be starving.”

“No, thanks.”

I ignore the caustic tone and take the response and feigned gratitude as a win.

“Did you sleep well?” I open the food bag and delve inside.

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