Page 47 of Broken

I take a minute to pull it together. In all honesty, I forgot the sweatpants had that slogan on the ass. They’re the biggest item of clothing I have, and the only thing that will come close to fitting Garrett.

Which in turn got my head in a spin because… Why? Why have I brought him here and asked him to take off his clothes in the hallway? In front of me. He could have gone to the bathroom like I did. I never offered him any privacy. He didn’t ask for it either.

Of course, it’s because he is soaked through. Like me and didn’t want to get my floors wet. The rain is so heavy I couldn’t leave him out in it.

All good reasons. Great reasons for bringing him up here.

My brain can’t shake the image of him peeling that top over his head. God, I got off over him pressing his clothed body against me. Seeing his chest, covered in tattoos, his skin wet and golden, with a light layer of hair across his pecs, is more than enough to get my temperature rising. I resist the urge to fan myself as he turns to face me.

“You think that’s funny?”

“I could take a picture, send it to Lucky.”

He folds his arms over his chest, which unfortunately, is now covered by a dark T-shirt. He has that angry glare on his face again, the one that makes my pulse jump.

The T-shirt is one I use to sleep in. I’ll be wearing it without washing it. Garrett smells amazing.

“Um, do you want something to drink? I need a drink,” I add with a mumble.

I spin on my heel and walk over to the kitchen. Garrett doesn’t move, but I can feel him in the room. If that is even a thing. He’s got that presence. Like he is filling up all the space.

There are coffee mugs on a stand that Ruby gave me, so I grab two and flick on the coffee machine.

“I’ll take a water,” Garrett has moved closer. “Caffeine is bad for you.”

“Caffeine keeps me going. Literally and figuratively,” I joke.

He looks around the kitchen and I focus on re-hanging the second mug and grabbing a glass instead. Garrett takes the glass after I’ve filled it.

We should finish our conversation about the other night, but I’m not sure how to broach it. Plus, the bombshell Sin droppedon me is playing on my mind. Does he watch the security footage? Or does he only look at it when something happens?

I have to go on the assumption he saw it. He hasn’t done or said anything to insinuate he knows. God, why is he standing there looking at me? Turning, I put my back to him and make my coffee.

He is studying me like he’s seeing inside of me. Like he has seen me. I’m about to blurt out the question when he speaks.

“That guy out there. How well do you know him?”

“Who?” I turn, still flummoxed. “Oh, you mean Caleb? Not well, he introduced himself at the mailbox. We don’t talk much.” His jaw is tight. Is he jealous? “Why?”

“Just, got a vibe.”

“What kind of vibe?”

Garrett shrugs. My hackles rise.

“Are you asking about the man across the hall? Like you have say in who I talk to?”

“No,” he looks away, a frown on his face. “I don’t care who you talk to, that guy just seemed off. Up to you what you do with that.”

“I don’t understand you.”

His head turns back. “Who said you had to understand me?”

“Do you always have to be so antagonistic?”

Garrett tenses his jaw, then he lets out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s the way I am. I know it irritates people. I’m not gonna apologize for it.”

There has to be something to admire about that. Not that I get it, I couldn’t be the way Garrett is. My mind goes back to his sketch pad. To the woman he drew, over and over. Whoever she was, she hurt him. That much is obvious.

---