Page 95 of Brazen Mistakes

For the windows that don’t have curtains, I cut up my spare sheets, which give the house a dim green tint, but it’s better than having to deal with surprise photos of us. Hopefully, this isn’t breaking some fire code or something. With Officer Reed making house calls now, I’d hate to give him a reason to come in.

Not that we leave evidence of what we’re up to out in the open, but still. Cops freak me out.

I run out of sheets before I get to my meditation space or either of the hallways, but Clara’s room, the kitchen, and the living room are safe. Now, if only I could fix this Bryce problem as quickly and easily.

I’m debating returning the favor by breaking into his apartment and moving shit around to freak him out, when the back door clicks open. I’m on my feet, racing back and snatching Clara into my arms before Walker’s even closed the door, bounding into her newly privatized room and tossing her onto the bed before flopping next to her.

Her giggles sound so fucking good after all the other shit that’s been going on, all the moments I’ve woken in themiddle of the night to a damp pillow and a cold spot beside me. Rolling her so she’s on top of me, her weight soothing some of my energy, I squeeze her, just needing to be wrapped up with her.

She wiggles on top of me, and that’s just as welcome.

“Jansen, not here. I don’t want Bryce—”

“I fixed it,” I announce. “Most of the main floor is Bryce-proof.”

Her weight disappears from me, and I lock my disappointed groan inside. Walker follows us in, trailing Clara to inspect my work with the curtains.

“Thorough,” he says, careful not to touch my tape.

“I did the kitchen and the living room, too.”

“Did you buy curtains?” Clara asks, her brows drawn. The urge to smooth out the lines there has me rolling to my feet and crossing the room. I take her hand and pull her down the hall to the kitchen, showing off my somewhat less impressive job with my sheets.

Walker laughs when he sees what I’ve done. “Dude. It’s easy to find curtains.”

That would have been smart. “I was just killing time until you guys got back. I don’t need two sets of sheets, anyway. Especially if I get to visit the bed heaven that is Clara’s mattress.”

She flushes as she pulls off her coat and lays it on the island—the coat I got for her just a few weeks ago. “I guess I can have my room back, then? It’s safe?”

Trips comes into the kitchen looking from one window to the other. “Jansen project?” he asks Walker, who nods, a sarcastic grin on his face.

Trips can tease, but he’s the one who justaccidentallyvisited the kitchen the second Clara came home. I link my arm with Clara’s and pull her over to stand next to the guy. “It’ll work, at least for a while.”

Clara leans into my arm, like it’s hard to stay on her feet, and I have to wonder exactly how little sleep she’s been getting. The look Trips gives her isn’t the lovey-dovey one I’d been hoping for, but rather one of worry mixed with anger. “You need to eat. Then sleep,” he barks at her.

Before Walker or I can tell Trips to fuck off, Clara closes her eyes. “No shit, Mr. Bossypants. But we both know how that’ll turn out.”

Walker heads to the fridge, opening it and looking over the options. “Let’s do something easy. Maybe just grilled cheese sandwiches. I can pull together some veggie dishes, cut up these oranges before they go bad, maybe have ice cream for dessert.”

Clara nods against my arm, Trips not looking away from her, his lips pressed into a thin line. As no one else is saying anything, I toss Walker a bone. “Sounds great, man. We’ll go check on RJ, let him know what’s up.”

Walker nods, his look to Clara almost pained. Shit. Is she really that bad?

I step in front of her and squat down, offering her my back. “Hop on,” I say, Trips scoffing and circling the island to rummage in the fridge.

“Like, a piggyback ride?” Clara asks.

“Exactly a piggyback ride.”

She giggles again, and I feel a tiny bit better as she launches herself at my back. Her arms circle my neck, and I sprint asfast as I can for the stairs, her squeal making everything settle under my skin, if just for a moment.

This is what being in love is supposed to feel like. A little buzz, a lot of laughter, the easiness of being with someone who sees all of you and stilllikesyou.

RJ’s door is locked, and I keep Clara on my back as I pick it, just to hear her laugh again, needing it almost as much as I need to get the fuck out of this house and do something to make my heart race.

The door swings open before I catch the last pin, RJ’s laugh greeting us before he lets us in, snatching Clara from my back as I pass him. “I wasn’t bringing you a gift,” I say, unable to even pretend to be annoyed when Clara giggles again, wiggling free of RJ’s grasp, flopping onto his bed like she belongs there.

Like maybe this is one of the places she’s been disappearing to when she wakes up crying in the middle of the night.

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