Page 62 of Enzo

I shut the door.

In here was order and control, which meant nothing could surprise me. I needed to lose myself in the order of things and after a few minutes of organizing piles of paper, I opened my door to the day, ready to handle work. Jamie headed over first.

“I can’t find paperwork for a part,” Jamie announced from the filing room doorway.

I inhaled, my pulse kicking up for a split second before I forced it down. I glanced at my wrist—it wasn’t even eight a.m., and he was already asking questions. Had Enzo sent him over to check on me? He didn’t act as if he was here to dish out empathy, nope, he was serious, focused, and intense, his piercing blue eyes sharp as he scanned my room as though he was checking I hadn’t taken the paperwork he was searching for. His blond hair had a liberal oil streak, but the rest was messy, as if he’d just stepped off a surfboard.

Not that he went surfing because it was hard to learn, he said, when he’d spent most of his teenage years in prison.

All four guys at Redcars had done time, but I didn’t know all the details. I never searched on Enzo’s phone, and I never asked. Jamie had a silent, precise way of moving, making him seem as if he could disappear and reappear at will. His piercing blue eyes missed nothing, and that quiet focus made him unpredictable. He also had this habit of holding a lighter, turning it in his hands, flicking it every so often and staring at the flame.

Creepy as fuck if I hadn’t known he was one of my newly found family.

Jamie and I had come to terms early on—he wouldn’t use his creepy ninja moves to startle me, and I would learn to bake cookies and make him as many as he could eat. It was an odd truce, but it worked for us. Beneath the sharp edges, there was sometimes a smile, and he bristled whenever anyone attempted to be mean to me, but that didn’t excuse the fact the man was freaking useless with paperwork and relied on me to fix his mess-ups.

“Which paperwork?” I asked after a brief pause, waving at the piles of loose papers that had been dumped on me.

“The piece-of-shit Civic.”

“What about it?”

“I’m missing the paperwork.”

“So you said.”

“Do you have it?” He frowned.

I masked the irritation creeping in. It was too early for questions. “What paperwork are you missing?”

“For the piece-of-shit Civic. I said that?—”

“Exactly what part for the piece-of-shit Civic,” I said with exaggerated patience.

He gave me an upward nod. “Plugs.”

I sighed, closing my eyes, letting my mind filter through the endless pages I had processed over the last few weeks and the papers I’d already flicked through this morning. Purchase orders weren’t just papers to me—they were imprints in my memory. I could see them as clearly as if I were holding them. The torn edge of the top left corner, the faded blue ink, the slight smudge where someone had dragged their finger over wet numbers.

Two weeks ago, Enzo placed a purchase order for a set of Civic plugs. The invoice number had a small grease stain on the top right. I opened the correct folder, pulled out the invoice, and the amounts matched.

That was the result of having a photographic memory. Although it was a burden most of the time, it was sometimes helpful, as it was now.

“Got it,” I said, handing Jamie the invoice without looking at him.

“Your brain is freaky,” he muttered, but there was no heat. Instead, he said it with something close to awe.

I huffed, shaking my head as he left. Maybe I was a freak. I’d spent too long being treated like a tool, a means to an end, a thing instead of a person.

Don’t let the past sneak in.

Breathe.

I returned to the filing, trying to concentrate, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone came over to interrupt me with a question. It was inevitable. I made a silent bet with myself that it would be Enzo. It was always Enzo—checking in, ensuring I was okay, asking if I needed anything.

But that was wishful thinking, and I lost the bet.

“Hey, Robbie, you got a second?” Rio’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I swallowed my disappointment before facing him.

It was ridiculous that my stomach had already started flipping in anticipation of seeing Enzo. It was worse that I even wanted to see him and waited for him. “Earth to Robbie, come in, Robbie,” Rio said, waving a hand in front of my face. “You back with us?” He wasn’t teasing me, he was genuinely worried, and somehow that made me squirm.

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