Page 37 of Martyr
“No.”
I jerk my head toward the hallway that’s barely visible from where we stand. “There’s stuff in the bedroom if you want to change.”
“You keep stuff here?”
“I wanted contingencies.” I shift. “I bought this place as an abandoned cabin for a steal of a price. Every time I came out to visit Lyssa, I worked on it. Repaired the leaks in the roof, replaced the broken windows, redid the bathroom. Tiled the fucking shower and this backsplash.” I gesture to the white and yellow tiles between the counter and upper cabinets.
“A real-life handyman.”
“Shut up.”
Reese pours more vodka into my glass. He lifts his. “Cheers,brother. To you and your contingencies.”
We’redrunk by the time Saint and Artemis make their way back to us. I didn’t fill Reese in on what the guy at the marina said. He took my statement and insurance information—the boat was a rental, so what the fuck do I really care—and said there would be ferries coming in as soon as the fire marshals deem it safe.
Saint and Artemis are better dressed for the weather, but it’s clearly snowing. They stamp their shoes off and enter in matching bright-red coats. Saint removes his as fast as possible, like he’s allergic to the fabric, and hangs it on one of the hooks by the door. Artemis does the same, but slower. Her shirt rides up in the back when she raises her arms, exposing a slice of muscled golden skin.
Too drunk to think things about the pretty little goddess.
I lean back on the couch, throwing my arm wide. It’s that or stand and get myself in trouble lumbering up to her.
Or Saint.
Him asking about my cock was unexpected—and so was Tem’s blush. We’ll revisit that later, hopefully. When their inhibitions have lowered.
“You two have to catch up,” I inform them.
I gesture to the empty glasses, the half-gone bottle between it. Reese has been heavy-lidded for an hour, his gaze on the fire. The conversation between us died out, and he only left briefly to raid my closet. He returned in black sweatpants and an orange hoodie.
Artemis makes a beeline for the bottle. She lifts it to her mouth and tips it back, her throat working as she takes one swallow, then another.
“Damn, girl,” Reese breathes.
“You two just sitting here drinking?” Saint asks.
She sets the bottle down without offering it to him.
Someonewas probably a dick to her this evening. I’d put money on that. Her hair is clean and braided, and snowflakes cling to it. She tugs the braid over her shoulder and toys with the end of it.
“That’s how you and I became friends,” Reese informs him. “Drinking and talking.”
Saint freezes. “Really?”
“Yep. So take a seat. Maybe we’ll make it fun and throw in a game.”
Artemis perks up. “You got playing cards around here, Kade?”
I consider her and slowly nod. “Top drawer in the desk.”
She spots it tucked under the back window. There’s a lamp on it—off, for now—and a chair. I used to puzzle out ways of waking up Lyssa, or doing my finances, or sketching new renovation projects for this place when my money would flow.
Back then, I was hopeful Ouranos would pay me enough to allow that.
Now, I know he gave me just enough to keep me coming back for more.
“Aha!” She returns and takes a seat on the floor across from Reese and me.
We both landed on the couch earlier. Her back is to the fire, though, and it must be warm. She probably picked the smartest spot to sit. She taps out the deck from its box. She shuffles, the thrum of the cards against each other oddly soothing. While she does, Saint lowers himself to the floor beside her.
