Page 28 of The Darkness Within

“Until you’re stronger.” His heavy sigh sounds like defeat, and maybe acceptance. “Let me show you around.”

Nash climbs out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and reaches into the backseat for his rucksack, slinging it over his shoulder. “What are the rules here?”

“Curfew is ten o’clock on weekdays, eleven on weekends. Everyone that lives here has to stay clean and sober. We also take turns with chores to keep the place clean and maintained. Everyone cooks for themselves and buys their own food unless we’re having a family dinner.”

“Family dinner?”

“Yes, like you have the Bitches? These men have each other. We are a family.”

“Great, more bleeding hearts,” he mumbles.

Chuffing, I shake my head. Nash is so full of shit. He has a bleeding heart as well, buried beneath all the emotional scars. Sooner or later, I’m going to help him realize that.

Nash follows me inside, where I show him around the first floor. “The dining room, living room, and kitchen are common spaces that we share. There’s also a covered porch outback. Two bedrooms and a bathroom on this floor, and three bedrooms upstairs with a shared bathroom.”

“Am I upstairs or downstairs?”

“With your injured leg still healing, it’s a good thing you’re downstairs. Tex, Nacho, and Miles bunk upstairs.”

“So you share the downstairs with me?”

My pulse kicks. Oh, Nash, that look in your eye gives you away. You’re interested in me, and you’re a danger to my recovery. And my peace of mind.

“Actually, you’re on your own. I live downstairs in the renovated basement. I have everything I need down there. A bathroom, a kitchen, a sitting area, and my own laundry.”

I have to will myself not to laugh as the light dims from his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Let me make you something to eat. I’ve got your meds. Then we’ll get you squared away in your room.”

“Brewer?” he asks as I turn away. “You really think this place is going to work for me?”

“Just remember, it works if you work it. If you want to get better, you will. Just don’t give up on yourself, and don’t give up on the people trying to help you.”

Nash scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re a walking cliché.”

“Maybe I am, but everything I’m telling you makes sense, and it’s the truth. Maybe you should start paying attention.”

In the kitchen, Nash casually leans against the counter as I move around, preparing a simple meal of minestrone soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. It’s not much, but he’s coming off of a liquid diet and I don’t know how solid his stomach is yet.

“You don’t have to be back to work until the day after tomorrow, which means as soon as you wake up tomorrow morning, you’re mine.”

“Excuse me?” He chokes, and I realize my words sounded mildly inappropriate.

“Your day belongs to me. You go where I go, no questions asked.”

“I’m game.”

Plating the sandwiches, we move to the table, taking seats across from each other. Nash picks at his food, which is all I expected. When I detoxed, I also had zero appetite. It was all I could do to crawl out of bed and exist. His attention is divided between sneaking covert glances at me and toying with that string tied around his thumb. It’s always there, and I can’t help but feel like it carries bad memories.

“What is that? Did that belong to him? Is it his bootlace or something?” Nash startles, his gaze falling on his thumb, and his expression tells me everything I need to know. “Hand it over.”

“Not a chance.”

He becomes guarded and stubborn. I have a feeling Nash can be the most stubborn man I know.

“I’m not asking, I’m telling you. Hand it over.” His dark blond brows slash down like two angry lightning bolts. “I’ll make you a trade. You can have this instead, and I’ll keep that safe for you.”

Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my own special keepsake, something I always carry with me. It isn’t something I ever thought I would let go of, but offering it to Nash feels…so right.

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