Page 87 of Broken Pieces
Her eyes narrow. “No one.”
“Bullshit.”
She speeds up. “Drop it.”
I catch up, voice low. “You know I won’t.”
“You think I owe you an explanation now?”
“No. I just want to find out if I should break someone’s jaw.”
That gets me a glare. “You always need a reason to fight somebody?”
“Only when it’s worth fighting for.”
She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath.
I don’t push it. Not tonight.
We turn down the back street that runs along the side of the workshop.
She stops walking for a second, the strap of her bag slipping lower.
“Give me that,” I say.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Skylar—”
“I said no.”
She’s stubborn to the fucking core. Still the only girl I’ve ever met who could fold a smile into a fuck-you.
The workshop comes into view, steel siding dull under the streetlight. Upstairs, a single window glows. I forgot to switch off the light this morning.
She slows down before I move over to the large door, her eyes moving over the place. “Is this it?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I crash on the top floor. It’s not much, but it’s warm. You hungry?”
She crosses her arms. “You always take in strays, or am I just special?”
“Only the ones who bite.” I grin.
She shifts her bag again and side-eyes me. “So what’s the catch?”
“No catch,” I say.
“Bullshit.”
I shrug. “You’re not that interesting, Sky.”
Her mouth quirks into almost a smile.
“You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Rivera.”
I open the door and gesture for her to enter.
She steps through, dragging her bags through the narrow doorway.
