Page 97 of Lotus

Son. He’s never called me that before.

“However, I’m inclined to agree with my boy on this one. That girl has always been spirited, and I worry she’s going to shake you up and leave you rattled.”

“I’m uncertain why everyone considers me to be so breakable. I survived in a basement for over two decades with not much more than a sleeping bag, a bucket, and a lifetime supply ofChef Boyardee.” My back is all that faces the two men across the room, so I don’t see their expressions when I deliver the bold statement. “I’m not nearly as fragile as you all seem to think I am.”

The ensuing silence runs in time with the water filling up the sink.

Gabe cuts in after a few heavy beats. “You know, you’re absolutely right. You’re a grown ass man and a survivor to boot. We just worry about you, bud.”

Twisting off the faucet and drying my hands on a holiday dish towel, I finally spin to face them. Travis is leaning back against the counter, rim of a whiskey glass pressed to his lips, his posture rigid. Gabe greets me with a flash of white teeth, his demeanor matching his words. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“And hell yeah, let’s hit the club tonight. Maybe I can convince Tabitha to be my date for the evening,” Gabe declares with a playful waggle of his dark blonde brows. “We’re already messaging back and forth. There’s mad chemistry.”

“You do recall she has a child, yes?”

His face blanches slightly as his eyes pin just over my shoulder, his mind likely envisioning all the ways that could end in disaster.

Travis intervenes, tipping his glass back and finishing the liquor with an easy swallow. “Well, I’ll head out and allow you boys to make your questionable life choices.”

“Thanks for your unwavering confidence,” Gabe jabs back, though, his tone is light.

They share a grin. Travis paces through the kitchen to set his glass in the soapy sink, turning to me before he moves away. A strong hand plants against my shoulder with a squeeze. “You know my door is always open, son. If you need a place to stay to get back on your feet, we have plenty of room, as well as the financial means to assist you. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for you.”

I’m not sure why I flinch back, but the thought of leaving my comfortable routine here with Gabe, leavingSydney, is a notion I can’t bear to fathom. Travis is family, yes, but we hardly know each other. My stomach feels unsettled. “That’s kind of you. I’ll think about it.”

A tight smile meets my weary expression, his hand falling. “And your comics, Oliver… that’s money right there. You should think about selling them.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“People would pay top dollar for those. You’re national news—your story is still trending all over social media and it’s been ten months since you escaped. Not to mention, they’re incredible. Gabe sent me a few pictures of them.”

I take a step back, lowering my eyes to the kitchen tiles. “I could never sell them. They’re a part of me.”

“Theywerea part of you. Letting go and moving on is a necessary step in the healing process,” Travis explains, his whiskey breath wafting around us. “Please think about my offer. I’m a businessman, Oliver. If anyone can help you reach your goals and get out of this rut, it’s me.”

A slap against my bicep has me wincing again as Travis pulls back, his smile leaving with him.

Live with Travis.

Preposterous.

He may have had some points in terms of financial benefit—after all, my library pay is hardly going to support me forever, much less allow me to purchase a vehicle or think about moving out and providing for myself.

And I’m certain, despite his claims otherwise, Gabe is looking forward to the day he has his privacy and space again. He’ll likely want to settle down with a woman soon—possibly with Tabitha, who has a small child—and my presence here will only complicate matters.

I suppose a temporary stay wouldn’t be the end of the world if it means securing myself a more comfortable future.

Live with Travis.

Preposterous…right?

T W E N T Y – T H R E E

CLEM:ILOVE YOU, SIS.I’m sorry. Tell Oliver I’m so sorry… I promise my reaction had nothing to do with him personally. Call me soon. :o)

The relief that flows through me when my sister’s message pops up on my cell phone has me fumbling with a shot glass, unable to maintain my grip as it smashes beneath the bar counter. “Shit,” I mutter, earning a worried frown from both Brant and Rebecca.

All three of us were put on the schedule tonight in anticipation of a pre-Christmas rush, but the snowstorm must have scared potential patrons away. We aren’t nearly as busy as Marco predicted.

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