Page 22 of Fighting for You
I haven’t been back to RED since the night before Thanksgiving when Cary’s life blew up—over a week now. Maybe closer to ten days? Shit, I don’t even know what day it is. I’m sure they’re all pissed at me for missing Thanksgiving lunch.
The last thing I wanted to do was be at a sad as fuck memorial for my parents, which is what they’d turned it into. I get it—my mom loved Thanksgiving. But I just… I couldn’t do it.
Thea made sure to inform me Cary flew back to Seattle the next day. I have no idea what’s going on between the two of them, and quite frankly, I don’t care. All I’m concerned about is finishing these renovations so I can sell this place, getting an apprenticeship somewhere, and beating Colton’s ass again.
I’m back at Billy’s but for myself this time. I figured starting in the kitchen would be easiest, since I have some experience after doing some upgrades to Thea’s house a couple years back. Granted it was simpler than this, just some painting and a new countertop for her island. The pictures I found online all look fancy as fuck. They’ve got new, shiny sinks with weird-ass faucets and modern hardware for the cabinets and drawers. Currently, the Grant house is sporting the bright gold roundknobs from the 80s. Not going to lie, I didn’t think I’d need to change them until I saw photos of some other flipped houses.
Turns out, the fancy shit is what sells homes. I just hope Billy carries something meeting those standards. As I walk past the register at the front, I holler over, “Hey, Billy-Bob, not working too hard, I hope.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
Just as I’m about to pass by the plumbing aisle, my eyes catch on a mess of brown curls. The familiar strands cascade over Margot’s shoulders, and my gaze traces the lines of her body, clinging to her curves. A smile threatens to take over my face, so I do my best at reeling it back.
“What’s got you thinking so hard, Freckles?” I ask as I saunter toward her. She doesn’t jump this time, which brings me more joy than it should.
“Oh, Brooks! Hi. What’re you doing here?” she asks with a smile, lighting up the dreary world around her. But before I can answer, she starts up again, her good humor dropping with each word. “Oh my goodness, your face!”
Shit.
I forgot about the massive bruise on my forehead where Colton’s lacky headbutted me like a fucking child to get me back for slamming Colt’s face into the counter of the bar.
“Margot, chill.” Her eyes narrow. “I’m fine. Bruises fade, you know that.” She sets her lips in a tight line. I think back on what I said and come to the conclusion it was probably the word “chill” that caused the scowl.
Noted, won’t be using it again.
“What happened?” she asks as she runs concerned eyes down the rest of my body, probably looking for other injuries.
“I’m fine, promise. You should see the other guy though,” I say with a smirk, hoping it’ll get me off the hook.
“Okay, Killer. I think we established last time I fixed you up, this isn’t a good look for you. Did you get these,” motioning tothe bruises on my face, “at The Pit? Are you part of Hayes’—” she cuts herself off as Billy turns down the aisle, already talking to me from the other end.
“Brooks, my boy, I hate to interrupt, but I’ve just gotten a shipment of toilets in, and James called out today. Is there any way you can help me move them to the back?”
I start to walk backward but point to Margot and say, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll help you find what you’re looking for.”
Margot gives me an incredulous look then says, “Do you work here too?”
I chuckle as I spin toward Billy to follow him to the back of the hardware store. Once we’re out of earshot, Billy turns around and says, “She’s pretty.”
Yeah, she fucking is,I think, but without missing a beat, I reply, “She’s Hayes’ sister.”
He nods his head in understanding as he says, “Oh…”
Moving the toilets for Billy went fairly quickly and saved me from a conversation I’m not ready to have with Margot. The start of it sounded like she knows about Hayes’ side gig, but as far as I know, he’s kept everyone not involved in the dark about it. And knowing him, he’d want to keep her out of the shady parts of his life, keep her protected.
She’s in the same aisle I left her in, scrolling through her phone. “Sorry about that. So, what’re we fixing today?”
She lifts her gaze, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she makes eye contact with me. “Toilet issues, funny enough. It won’t stop running, and I figured I’d try to fix this one myself.”
“Uh huh, how’s that going?” I ask, trying not to sound too flirty.
“Don’t make fun! I just need to find the flapper-thingy. I plan on watching a video on how to replace it so I don’t have to bug anyone.” Her cheeks flame a pretty pink shade, making the freckles covering her face pop even more.
“Don’t forget to cut the water off before you start,” I remind her, knowing the conclusion she’ll jump to.
“I have to go down to the basement to fix this?” Her eyes widen, fear shining through.
“Nah, there’s a knob shutoff behind the toilet, don’t worry,” I tease.
She looks back to the shelves in front of us, scanning the items for what she needs.
