Page 31 of Blood & Lace
There was a pause and then "Okay."
The door clicked, and I let myself inside, shutting it behind me. I made my way up three flights of stairs, and by the time I arrived at apartment 315, the door was cracked open for me. I let myself inside.
"Hey," I called. "Oh, Jesus."
Adam glared at me from across the room. "That's one way to say hello," he muttered.
I glanced around the apartment. There was trash everywhere. It was piled into bags, into boxes, shoved into corners, and stuffed into the closet. The smell was so strong I nearly gagged, but I forced myself not to embarrass him more.
"Why didn't you call me?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Thought you were busy. Haven't heard from you in ages."
"I sent someone to come clean," I said as I moved forward and went in search of gloves.
"She asked too many questions," he muttered as he sat at the round kitchen table and palmed a coffee mug. "I didn't like that. She could be anyone."
"I vetted her, Adam," I urged. "Come on, she was supposed to help with this stuff so you don't have to worry about it."
"You mean soyoudon't have to worry about me. I get it. You don't have to come here anymore," he snapped.
I sighed. "You don't mean that."
Adam stared back at me with a challenge in his eyes. All I saw was my mother in that gaze. He was every bit as stubborn and wild as she was. Even if that wildness had now been broken a little.
"Forgot your own brother," he muttered.
"I didn't," I said, my voice a lot more pleading than I wanted it to be. "Life was insane, and then something weird happened. And?—"
"You're married?" Adam asked, a frown on his face. "You got married?"
Shit.I had forgotten Lucero had popped the ring back onto my finger. Quickly, I snatched it off and stuffed it into my pocket.
"It's not what you think."
"I missed a whole wedding? You dating? All of it?" he whispered. He fisted a handful of his hair. "I'm such a piece of shit."
I raced to my brother. "Don't say that," I snapped. "This is not real. Some crazy asshole tricked me into it, and I'm getting a divorce. It's a long story but I'll tell you the whole thing, okay? Why don't we clean up together and I'll tell you all about my psychotic husband."
Adam blinked at me as if he was coming back to reality. He frowned. And then slowly, he nodded. "Okay."
We worked on putting his apartment back together. Bag after bag of trash was hauled out, and by the end of it, I was a sticky, sweaty mess. Still, I couldn't stop. I went into full cleaning mode—stove, bathroom, bedroom, laundry. By the time I was finished, there was something pinched in my back, and my right hip ached from when I slammed into the counter after tripping over trash, but it was clean. Adam looked around. In the corner of his mouth, there was a faint twitch. The ghost of a smile. He sighed and relief colored his usually pinched features.
Thank God. Look at him, he's happy.
My heart squeezed. I reached out and took his hand. Adam's hand closed over mine, tight and trembling—a side effect of his medicine more than likely—before he turned to me. There was no smile there, not really. There hadn't been in years. But even just the start of one was enough to make me feel like I wasn't a complete and utter piece of shit. Like I hadn't abandoned him here.
"Thanks," he said. "It looks nice."
I nodded triumphantly. "Yeah, not half bad, right?" I sighed. "Hungry? I can put some meals in the fridge for you?"
He shook his head. "Your cooking sucks."
I gasped. "It does not!"
Adam stared. "You nearly burned the apartment last time just by making scrambled eggs. It smelled like farts in here for a week. And I can't actually escape it."
I stared at him, my jaw dropped. "You ungrateful?—"
