Page 8 of Making Haven
That seems to finally break him out of the stare. He quickly shakes his head. “Finding my own place until I’m healed sounds good.”
“For the first few days, you should probably stay here because of your leg. If something got within the fence, you’re kinda fucked.”
“I’m more than capable of protecting myself,” he says with a sneer. “I’ve been doing just fine before you came along and played the hero.”
I let out a long sigh. If my hands weren’t full, I’d be rubbing tiredly at my eyes. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” I murmurto myself. “Whatever. Go back to sleep, asshole. I’ll wake you when the sun is down.”
As I step away, I can hear Devin shuffling around, getting comfortable on the couch once more. I shake my head, wondering how the hell we’re going to put up with each other. There’s so much venom to his words that it’s hard not to take it personally.
Once I’m done cleaning the dishes, I slide into my own bed. There’s a few more hours before I can venture outside and with nothing else to do, I close my eyes.
Chapter Five
Devin
A door clicking shutis what wakes me. My body goes tense and I hiss through clenched teeth as I realize how fucking sore my body is. My ankle throbs with my heartbeat, pain lancing up over my knee. It takes me far longer than I care to admit to orient myself and realize where I am.
Fuck. Lawrence.
As much as fucking Lawrence might have sparked excitement in me before the entire world went to hell, right now I can’t help but think the phrase in a derogatory way. Fuck that vampire and his help. He’s gotta have some ulterior motive. There’s no way he’d help me just for the sake of helping.
Any time now he’s going to creep in here with his fangs bared asking to take a sip. I can’t think of another reason why he’d save me if not to have a taste.
“Morning,” a voice says softly and I carefully sit up, groaning as my muscles protest. Lawrence chuckles, the bastard.
“Whatever,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. I look over towards the window. It’s dark outside. I guess while I’ll be staying here, I’ll have to get used to my schedule being assbackwards. Up during the night and sleeping during the day, same as the zombies. Great.
“Or maybe I should say night. I found something for you.”
“What? Why?” There used to be a day I would marvel at being presented with a gift. Now I know what sort of strings come attached to things like this.
I look over at Lawrence, raising my brow at him. What the fuck is this dude’s game?
Despite my tone and demeanor, Lawrence gives me a small smile. “I thought you could use this to get around. I have a feeling you want my help as little as possible and this’ll help that,” he says, holding up a strong looking stick.
I quickly look away, doing my best to mask the shock I feel. Why did he go out of his way to find that for me? He must have been up earlier, getting outside as soon as the sun was down.
“What’ll it cost me?” I ask before I can think better of it, narrowing my eyes at him. “Just a little sucky suck?”
Lawrence’s jaw clenches. He throws the walking stick at me and it’s only the fact that I’m looking right at him when it happens that I have the awareness to put my hand up and bat it away before it hits me in the face. It clatters to the ground beside me.
“What the fuck?”
“First of all, don’t ever fucking call it sucky suck again. Second, fuck you. All I’ve done so far is help you and all you’ve done is be suspicious of me.”
“Do you have any idea what it’s like out there? Any time I’ve ever encountered another living person, I’ve been fucked over. Sorry that me being wary of you is hurting your feelings.”
Lawrence snorts but it’s not in amusement, more like a self-deprecating laugh, like he’s turning his nose up at me. “Lucky for you, I’m not a living person technically,” he says before storming out of the room.
I cross my arms over my chest. As much as I want to storm after him and tell him he’s an asshole, I know this one is on me. He’s done nothing to warrant the amount of scorn I hold for him, but I can’t seem to let it go. Having this mistrust is how I’ve kept myself alive so far. I can’t just shut it off!
“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath, scratching at the stubble on my cheek. “Fuck all of this.”
I carefully push myself to my feet, picking up my new walking stick as I go. Something funny stirs inside my chest as I place it under my arm and use it as a makeshift crutch. It’s the perfect height while being sturdy enough to hold my weight. It’s a lovely gift. Really thoughtful.
I might be a jackass.
I’m about to leave the room and hobble after Lawrence when I look at the table next to the couch. There’s a plate of food along with a pitcher of water.
