Page 6 of Brick

With a chuckle, I move closer to him. "Yeah, I noticed."

That silence that surrounded us on the bike falls over us once again. I can feel the tension thickening.

"Honestly, I don’t think I need to be here. I have to get back out to try and find Wendy." I take a step toward the door, but he stops me.

"You’re not going back out there. Not tonight." His voice grazes over my skin like the serrated edge of a blade.

"Who are you to tell me what I’m going to do?"

"I’m probably the only man walking around at this time of night who isn’t going to try and make you a victim." He sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Look, Luna, I know you want to go find Wendy, but you’re not going to find her tonight, no matter how bad you want to. Let’s get you taken care of, and then you can go about your business."

"The sooner, the better," I mutter and plop down with as much attitude as I can muster into a chair.

Brick walks to the side of the room, and once again my eyes fall on the demo on the other side of the room.

"How long have you been in construction?" I ask as he pulls out a tweezer, ready to start taking out the splinters in the cut on my arm.

"Don’t do that," he grumbles and focuses on my arm.

"Don’t do what?"

"Act like you give a shit about my life."

I pull back, and his eyes pop up to mine. "You don’t know anything about what I care about."

He smirks, and I see the mischievous fire flare to life in his gaze. "Are you saying you care about me? You don’t even know me, Luna."

"I don’t, and I’m almost certain no one does. That doesn’t make you any less. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by people most would have considered less than. I’ve never been one of those people." It comes out softer than I intended.

Brick stares at me for a second before he huffs out a breath and goes back to taking care of my arm.

I can feel the calluses on his hands. The skin there is rough, but his movements are gentle, almost as if he didn’t want to hurt me.

I’m not sure why it resonates so deeply within me, but just the thought of someone being gentle with me is enough for me to relax. I’ve had to be hard for so long I almost forgot what it was like to be soft.

"Any luck figuring out where Wendy might have gone?"

The question catches me off guard. "You didn’t seem to care too much about her well-being before. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s not in one of your warehouses."

"Now who’s the one thinking they are less than? Just because I don’t know her doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to her. I know getting life to work out is hard. I wanted her to stay on the straight and narrow even though I had only just met her."

Would he believe me? There was a chance. I hiss in pain as he plucks out a deep splinter, and he blows cool air on the wound to soothe me before he looks up into my face to make sure that I’m ready to move on. When I nod, he goes back to what he was doing.

"She was. I mean, she had finally given up the stuff. She was clean."

Brick doesn’t look back at me; instead, he just stays focused on my arm. "People relapse all the time. It happens. It doesn’t mean that she can’t get clean again."

"No, she didn’t relapse. She’s still clean."

Finally, Brick looks at me again, and I can see the doubt written all over his face. I guess I shouldn’t have thought he’d be any different.

"Whatever, just hurry up so I can leave." I roll my eyes and look away. So much for thinking at least one person would believe me.

"Stop acting like that." He growls at me, keeping hold of my injured hand.

"Stop acting like what?"

Without missing a beat, he answers, "A grade A bitch."

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