Page 77 of Retribution
There’s a long moment of silence before I pull out my phone to begin brainstorming. I want, no need, my omega to be able to stay with me. She can keep the rental of wherever she’s staying, but I want sleepovers.
Glaring at my screen, I begin researching do it yourself homes that won’t take much time to put together. I can get plumbing and electrical work done much faster than construction.
“Do I need a permit to put together a shed on my property?” I ask absentmindedly.
“A shed…you aren’t sleeping in a shed,” he scoffs.
“Theoretically, how large would the shed have to be before I needed a permit?” I ask, steamrolling over his concerns. “I need to know for science purposes.”
“Lucas,” Grant growls at me.
Laughing in a tired, mildly unhinged, manner, I continued looking at different models.
“I think this will work,” I muse.
“Put your crackpot schemes away, Dr. Evil,” he says, lips twitching.
“I’m tired of not sleeping with my girl,” I complain. “My plan is faster than leveling the house down. It could be a mini home while I figure out what Isolde wants. She could help me plan out our new home. I want big play spaces. Our house isn’t built for tiny minds to explore.”
“Plural,” he says slowly.
“Whatever she wants,” I say firmly. “I like kids. They fascinate me whenever I volunteer at the community center downtown. Shit, it’s been awhile.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about that. We’ve been going through a busy time,” Grant reminds me. “We’ll head down there soon. For now… we’re here.”
I blink as he pulls into a home with a small porch in a modest neighborhood. There are flower beds that are bare now that’ll be pretty when spring rolls in. It’s obviously a well taken care of home.
Why is he renting out his home to my girl?
“Have you looked into who is renting this place?” I ask, glancing around.
“Yes. He’s a quiet empty nester who decided to take a traveling nursing job. Mr. Troy Adamíc tried out the lifestyle before deciding to rent out his home at first. He’s a widower with three children that all grew up,” Grant explains. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he needs to feel more needed than he was at the local hospital here. He’s not a creeper, Lucas. I checked.”
“Of course you did. This place just feels very domesticated for a rental,” I mutter. “I don’t know, it just feels odd.”
“It’s the place she needed,” Grant says, pushing open the car door. “She’s changed out several of the locks already.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, rethinking not having hit him yet.
“There’s trees surrounding this house. She hasn’t found them yet.”
“She’s going to shove her boot in your ass,” I snort, feeling very loopy from how tired I am.
It’s almost as if I disassociate from the time my foot hits the snow and the porch. I simply don’t remember it. Grant stands next to me, texting her from his phone.
“If the baby is sleeping, I don’t want to wake her up,” he explains.
Nodding because he’s right, I listen to see if I can hear her. Instead, it’s silent until I hear a baby make a small noise. The door opens, and there’s Isolde with a bat. She shoves it hard into Grant’s stomach until his hands flail and he falls off the fucking porch.
Raising my hands up, I wait to see if I receive the same treatment.
“You can come in,” she mutters. “He lied and said he wouldn’t tell anyone where I live.”
“Technically, I was along for the ride,” I say slowly.
“Oops,” she winces, watching as Grant stands, rubbing his stomach.
“You could have swung at me if you really wanted to hurt me,” he says.
