Page 51 of The Bitterness of Venom

She gives me a knowing look. “No problem.”

I wrap a bandana around my head to hide my still patched-up wound. Not that I think anyone will judge me, but the less questions the better.

Destiny drives me to work. I’m honestly surprised I still have a job but, apparently, we need bartenders now more than ever with the hockey season in full swing.

Destiny sits at the bar, chatting with me until my regulars come in. My two old men ask me questions like where I’ve been, why am I wearing a bandana. Just a bunch of normal questions that I don’t have the energy to answer, so I give them my best “don’t mess with me” face, which has them laughing and throwing more money in my tip jar.

When my shift is finally over, I’m tired. Luckily, my new place of residence isn’t that far away. I startle at the figure waiting in the rain by the employees’ door. His hood pulled up as he leans against the wall.

“Freckles.” My heart speeds up for a different reason. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice since I kicked him out a week—or was it two?—ago.

“What are you doing here?” I pull my bag higher up my shoulder.

“It’s raining. I wanted to give you a ride home.”

I walk past him into the rain, allowing it to soak my hair and body since I didn’t have the foresight to bring a jacket. “You waisted a trip.”

I hear his footsteps behind me. “Damn it, Blaise. Let me give you a ride home. You don’t even have a jacket.”

I know he’s right. I shouldn’t walk in the rain, I’m already feeling a little under the weather as it is. Admitting he is right is out of the question, though. A jacket is wrapped around me, smelling so sickly addictive like Desmond I have no choice but to inhale the scent lingering in the fabric deeply. His arm is around my shoulders next, tucking me into his side to fight off the cold. It’s December, after all.

He doesn’t say anything, just blocks the wind and rain from my body. Taking care of me like he always has.

When we arrive at the penthouse, Desmond doesn’t let go of me, leading me to the bathroom and turning on the shower, allowing the room to fill with steam around us. He stares at me, his lips parting as he brings his thumb to my face, drifting his fingers over the bridge of my nose and cheeks. “You didn’t hide your freckles.”

It’s something I’ve been doing lately. Not covering my freckles, that is.

“You can go.”

I just feel the need to say it. I’m not sure if it’s to convince him or myself. Because the truth of the matter is… I miss him. But even though I miss him, I know that I’m worth more than how he’s treated me since we met after all that time apart.

Desmond watches me. His face a mask of indifference, but I can see it in his eyes. The pleading. I’m stunned into silence when he bends down, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek, before begins to walk away.

“Desmond.” He pauses, not turning around. “Maybe we can try to be friends again.”

“Sure, Freckles.” He walks out the bathroom door, and I stand there until I hear the ding of the elevator.

I’m notsure what I was expecting when I woke up this morning, but a car with a big pink bow on the front of the hood—with Desmond leaning against it—was not it.

“What the fuck?”

He throws his arms out, a dimpled smile on his face. “What do you think?”

“Pink bows are not really your color. Daddy buy that for you?”

He chuckles. “No, this is yours.”

I run my finger over the black Mercedes, marveling and giddy on the inside. “You can’t buy my love.”

“Friends buy each other presents.”

“Not like this. Plus, I can’t even drive.” I turn to face him.

His face falls and his brows scrunch together. “You can’t drive?” I shake my head. “Why the fuck can’t you drive?”

“Because my daddy is floating at the bottom of the ocean somewhere and my mom is dead. No foster home wanted to give me the ability to run away.”

Desmond’s hands fall to his hips. “Well, fuck, Freckles. Looks like I need to teach you to drive.”

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