Page 35 of Killer's Obsession
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out an envelope, placing it on the desk in front of me. “Your first paycheck.”
I stare at the envelope. “Already?”
“Yeah.” His lips twitch. “It’s Thursday. You earned it.”
With shaky hands, I pick it up. My name is printed on the front. Memphis Sutton. It feels weird for some reason. Like it’s the first proof of life to the outside world that I still exist.
“Thank you,” I whisper, meaning so much more than just for the cash.
“What are you going to buy?” he asks, plopping himself down on the edge of my desk.
I run my finger along the edge of the envelope, considering. “Some clothes of my own, maybe.” I smooth a hand down my front, over the borrowed jeans and top. “Pinky’s been nice enough to let me borrow stuff this week, but...”
“Fuck.” Killer’s brow furrows, a look of genuine dismay crossing his face. “I’m sorry, Pet. I should have taken you shopping for your own shit.” He rubs a tattooed hand on the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. “I’m not used to having a woman in my life.”
I’m not sure why, but his confession that he’s never had a woman in his life before makes happiness bubble up inside me. “It’s okay. Really. I didn’t mind borrowing Pinky’s clothes, and she didn’t mind loaning them to me.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not okay. I’m going to fix that right now.” He stands abruptly, his decision made. “Grab your bag. We’re going shopping.”
And just like that, I grab my empty purse and follow him out the door.
In no time, we’re across town and walking through the entrance of the Jacksonville Mall. I can’t help but giggle at the perpetual scowl Killer wears. It’s probably the reason the crowd parts for us like he’s Moses wading across the Red Sea. People step back when they see him coming, although that might have more to do with the cut he wears so proudly on his back.
Part of me wants to snap at them for being judgmental assholes, but the other part is a little bit relieved that it keeps most people away. It feels safer.
“Where to first?” he asks, brow arched like he doesn’t have the slightest idea what to do now that he’s brought me here.
I bite back a smile. “Old Navy?”
He nods, completely out of his element but determined. “Lead the way.”
“Me?” I smile up at him. “I’ve never been here before.”
“Shit. Sorry.” He shakes his head, then looks around again. Up ahead on a board is a map of the mall.
“This way.” He points off to the right.
Lacing his fingers with mine, he leads the way.
When we make it down the wide walkway to the Old Navy, I head straight for the women’s section. I pick out a few pairs of denim shorts. A few graphic t-shirts with cute sayings printed across the chest. Moving over to a rack of floral sundresses, I pick one up and stare at it. I don’t feel like it’s me anymore. Itfeels like something the old Memphis would have worn. I add it to my stack anyway.
Killer follows silently, carrying the few things I’ve grabbed without complaint, though his expression grows increasingly pained as the pile grows.
“I need to try these on,” I tell him, gesturing toward the fitting rooms.
He nods, handing over the armful of clothes. “I’ll wait.”
In the privacy of the fitting room, I strip down to my borrowed underwear and try on each item. The shorts fit perfectly. The t-shirts are soft and comfortable. But it’s the sundress that makes me pause, staring at my reflection.
The girl looking back at me is familiar. Not quite the Memphis of before, but not the broken shell she was either.
I smile at my reflection and change back into my clothes before gathering everything I want to buy.
When I emerge, Killer is exactly where I left him, standing with his arms crossed, looking intimidating as hell among the colorful displays of summer clothes.
“Everything fit?” he asks.
“Some of it.” I hold up the items I’ve chosen. “I also want to get a swimsuit.”
