Page 66 of Surrender
“So, does the water in here ever get cold?” I questioned, slipping my fingers through his hair and pushing it back.
“Never,” he answered with a smirk.
“Good, because I have more learning to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
DARCY
“You’re gonna buy a house without seeing the upstairs?” Rafe questioned as we walked up the path to my old house.
I’d organized for Nate and me to look at the house again while I was still waiting to hear from the bank, since last time he showed up, all I did was yell and throw him out. But he needed to meet with Bishop this morning after shit went down at the club last night, and demanded that I still go to see the house without him.
Butnot alone.
“Technically, I have seen upstairs,” I argued, putting the key in the door and jiggling the knob a little to get it to open. I turned back to him with a smile. “And I know it like the back of my hand, so…”
Rafe scrunched his nose, slipping by me and stepping into the foyer. “I call bullshit on that,” he said, his voice echoing in the large, empty space. “Your hand does not look the same as it did twelve years ago.” The kid marched off, his head turning in all different directions, scanning and studying everything he could see.
I followed him in, literally kicking the stubborn front door shut behind me before joining him in the living room. “I hate that what you just said makes sense,” I muttered, glancing at the staircase. It seemed so large and daunting, almost like it was looming over me from the corner of the room. “I’ve never seen James’ room empty.”
Rafe’s face softened instantly. “Sorry, I forgot you weren’t here when your parents sold the place. That must’ve sucked.”
I nodded, inching closer to the staircase.
“It did,” I admitted, probably for the first time. “They did it really quickly. And because I was so deeply immersed in classes in New York, I didn’t have any time to come back and accept that this part of my life was over. I mean, it’s not even the house. It’s the memories, and that sounds so damn cliché. But it’s true.”
Rafe offered me a warm smile. “I get it, but because of the opposite reason,” he said, his eyes once again beginning to wander. “I’ve been in foster care since I was like eight years old. For me, the memories of the houses are the worst part.”
My heart sank into my stomach. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my hand unconsciously pressing against my chest.
He shook his head, a little too hard, and then forced another smile. “Honestly, it’s fine. Being at the clubhouse is much better. It’s the first time I’ve had my own bedroom, but I just can’t wait to be in a house one day that feels like a family home, not a group home.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’ve never had your own room?”
He laughed softly. “Nah. Most foster parents take in multiple kids, so we were always packed into bedrooms with however many bunkbeds could fit.”Jesus Christ. “There were fights all the time, too, especially when I got older. But I guess that’s what happens when you stick five or six teenage boys in one room and expect raging hormones not to take over.”
“Let me guess,” I said, and placed my hand on the banister of the stairs. It was smooth and worn well past the varnish in some spots. “You were getting into fights, so you started boxing, and that was where you met Nate… um, Blue, I mean.”
Rafe’s face lit up. “Close. I think he took pity on me, honestly,” he joked. “A couple of friends of mine had gotten mixed up with this street gang. They wanted me to join, but I said no, and the next day they jumped me. Blue happened to be driving by and pulled over, scared them off, and told me to meet him at Brawlers if I wanted some help.”
I laughed under my breath.
That tracked.
He saw himself in Rafe.
And he was ready to step up and defend his younger self.
“You know,” Rafe started, taking a couple of slow steps to where I was standing at the foot of the staircase. “Since I shared how I met Blue, how about you tell me how you metNate.”
A distraction.
He was smart.
“All right,” I agreed, and my stomach twisted, but with a long, deep breath, I finally stepped onto the first step. “He moved in next door with his parents.”
I climbed another.
