Page 78 of My Revenant
Roy huffed. “Honestly, son, I’m glad.”
“You’re glad I’m late to work? Kind of a shitty work ethic, boss.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not glad you’re late, smart ass. But you’re late ’cause you got somewhere else you’d rather be ’sides here with me. It’s good for ya.”
“Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, Daddy Roy. It’ll ruin your grumpy reputation.”
I was deflecting. I didn’t know what to do with the warmth his words filled my chest with. Didn’t know how to express whatever these feelings were.
Roy seemed to understand. “Parts you ordered came in,” he told me, thankfully changing the subject.
“Fuck yes.” I smiled, taking my gear to the locker so I could get started on the day and hopefully still be able to finish up early enough to work on my personal project.
Two years ago, a customer had brought in a 2004 Jeep Cherokee with a blown transmission. She didn’t have the funds to repair it, so Roy had taken pity on her and offered to buy it from her instead. Since then, the car had sat out the back of the garage completely neglected and almost forgotten about. When I offered to buy it off Roy, he’d given it to me.
Sourcing a brand new transmission would cost more than the thing was worth, but I’d managed to find a replacement at a scrapyard and had it delivered to the shop. The old girl wasn’t too pretty, but she’d be functional when I was done with her, and that’s all she needed to be. I hoped Jonah would like her.
He walked everywhere despite the pain his leg obviously gave him, but he didn’t complain about it or seek an alternative. Maybe that would feel like admitting he had a weakness. I wasn’t sure if he even knew how to drive, and I hadn’t told him about the car yet, but if he didn’t know, I could teach him.
I got home a little later than usual, having spent some time on the Cherokee. When I walked in, I heard noises from the kitchen and followed them to see my rabbit attempting to cook… something. Something that had definitely already passed the stage of “cooked” and was well on the way to becoming charcoal.
“What you doing there, Rabbit?” I asked him from the doorway.
Of all the rooms in this house, I hated the kitchen most. It was better now than it used to be, and it certainly helped that Mom hadn’t been home in so long, but I still spent as little time here as possible. Even though the floor and walls had been scrubbed clean so many times, until my hands ached and the tile was shining, sometimes I could still see the blood.
“Cooking,” he grumbled, glaring at the frying pan. “Or… trying to. Why are you late?”
“Work project,” I told him, not exactly a lie.
“Well, if you’d gotten home on time, maybe it wouldn’t have burned.”
“Ah, so it’s my fault. I see.” I smiled, leaving my post in the doorway to approach him. My finger hooked the back of his jeans as I yanked him into me, trapping him within my arms. “In that case, I’ll order in for us, to make it up to you.”
Jonah sighed softly as he leaned into me, and I inhaled his scent deep into my lungs. He used my soap, my shampoo, but it smelled so different on him. Better.
“It’s only fair.” He shivered when my lips found the curve of his neck.
Just as I was about to tell Jonah that maybe I’d just have rabbit for dinner instead, my phone rang in my back pocket. I sighed, still keeping him close to me as I retrieved it. Only when I saw the name on the screen did I pull back and step away.
“Hey, little Cupid, how’s my favorite Stray?” I asked, only because I loved the way Jonah glared at me. I loved seeing him jealous, possessive. Adorable. I wanted him to always be like that—needy and demanding, entirely unreasonable.
“Coyote,” said a voice on the other end of the call, far too deep and Hungarian to be Cupid.
My smile faded. “Bull. Where’s Cupid?”
“Injured.”
“Yeah, the man of few words and many grunts routine is fine under normal circumstances, but I’m going to need more from you than that.”
“Drakes attacked him pretty badly. You can handle it?”
“I can. Have you called Wolf?”
“Unavailable.” That was becoming a pattern with Archer.
“Name?”
“Petrov brothers, and Bates.”
