Page 45 of The Auction
It was weird, but this was the first time I’d been back in this room since he’d died.
Maybe I should have been more creeped out, but I knew the mattress was new and Creed did a pretty good job of keeping his space clean, so it wasn’t like I could smell the stench of sick under the sheen of morphine anymore.
After a few minutes of listening with half an ear to see if Tank was going to be a belligerent drunk, I fell asleep.
TWELVE
JULIETTE
My first thoughtwhen I woke up was that I was too comfortable. Like I was tucked into a warm cocoon where I couldn’t move, but why would anyone want to because I was so perfectly content?
That halfway point between real sleep and drowsing. Warm, but not hot.
Wait. This didn’t feel like the floor.
I shot up, realizing immediately I was sleeping on the bed next to Creed. He also shot up and in a second had his big hand wrapped around my mouth, his arm wrapped around my torso holding me against his chest.
Was he awake? Was he reacting to my sudden motion? I didn’t know. I forced myself still.
Breathing in and out in the slow rhythm like he’d shown me before.
“Sudden movements, babe,” he said into my ear. “Not cool. We’ve got to work on that.”
Slowly, carefully, he removed his arms from around me. Instinctively, I took a big swing at him with my fist where his face should be, but he caught it in his palm.
“Don’t hit me. You’ll only break some fingers.”
I pulled my hand back and crossed my arms over my chest. “You moved me while I was sleeping,” I hissed at him.
“You looked uncomfortable,” he said, without apology. “And you’re small enough that you could fit on the bed without me noticing you were even in it.”
“I’m not small,” I said defensively, although I had no idea why.
“You’re five feet nothing and I barely clocked your weight when I picked you up in a dead lift.”
“Five feet four and I’m strong.”
“You are that,” he admitted. “We fit on the bed without touching. You’re being stubborn for no reason.”
Probably. But stubborn was my default mode.
Then my curiosity got the better of me. I folded my legs up under me and looked at him. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. I guess I should be grateful for that. Truth was, he had zero modesty, so I was sort of getting used to how he looked without much clothing.
We’d had no repeats of him stripping down naked in front of me, but if I had to identify his dead body at the morgue just by his body alone. I was pretty sure I could do it.
“What is that, anyway?” I asked him, pointing to the chain around his neck and the charm attached to it. This was the first time I was close enough to him to even try and make out what it was, but it wasn’t familiar to me.
“Just something my mother gave me,” he said, and I knew that was all he wanted to say about that. Creed did not talk about his family. Like less than I mentioned Herb, which was impressive.
Changing the subject, I asked him, “How late did you stay up?”
Because I’d obviously been fast asleep by the time he’d come to bed if he was able to move me without waking me.
“Late,” he said, propping his back up against the headboard, a deep scowl on his face. “Tank was shitfaced and I wasn’t going to bed until I knew he was in his room passed out.”
“Do I need to be worried about him?”
His eyes narrowed. “Not as long as I’m around. But don’t leave my side and don’t be alone in a room with him.”
