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“Nobody does.” I’d picked just the old armchair out because I knew no one would have very much, and I wanted to blend in. Plus, the more money I keep in my getting- out-of-dodge fund, the better.
“He doesn’t want you to be like everyone else.” After a heavy pause, he says, “It’s brand new. We picked it up at the furniture store across town in Pedro’s truck.”
“It’s nice,” I mumble, eyeing it and not knowing what to say. I’m not used to this. Whatever Johnny is, I can’t say he’s not observant…and caring? He must’ve seen how sparse my furniture was and wanted to give me more.
Brawler glances around the apartment. “Where’s Oscar?”
I stand there like a deer in the headlights. It doesn’t take Brawler long to figure out he’s not here. There really isn’t room for me to lie. What could I tell him? He’s in the bathroom? The door’s wide open. Clearly, no one else is here with me. “He had to go to a football game,” I say, shrugging. “He didn’t want to. I made him.”
Brawler shakes his head. His eyes turn into that stormy color again. “Fucker would do anything for football.”
“Johnny doesn’t have to know. Right?” I ask. I’m beginning to think I can count more and more on Brawler, but I’m not sure. Shit’s weird between us right now. I’m not sure I’m even thinking clearly.
“Not my place to narc,” Brawler responds.
He reaches up like he’s going to itch his neck but stops as soon as his fingers brush the bandages around his neck. He sees me looking and flushes. “What are those?” I ask, worried he’s been hurt. He isn’t acting like he’s in pain, but why else would he be swathed in bandages.
He finally looks at me. “I got a new tattoo last night.”
“Oh.” My voice rings high with surprise. “What did you get?”
He shrugs. “Nothing big.” His answer is intentionally vague, and I immediately want to call him out on his bullshit. I have a feeling Brawler just doesn’t decide to get a tattoo one day. Especially where he’s gotten it. He won’t ever be able to cover it up unless he wants to wear a scarf, so it must mean something to him. He motions toward the furniture with his head. “You should probably call Johnny.”
“Right,” I say. “Of course.” I should’ve done that already, but Brawler is distracting.
Johnny answers the phone with a smile in his voice. He’s definitely pleased with himself. I thank him a few times, telling him I never expected he would do that. He repeats over and over that his girl should have the best. The call doesn’t last long because he’s needed in another business meeting, so we hang up, and I find myself smiling.
Ridiculous, I know. I’m judging myself, so I can only imagine what those on the outside see.
I school my features, but I turn to find Brawler staring at me. His gaze intense as he watches the smile fall off my face. It’s like I’m on display for him, so I immediately turn to place my cell phone on the counter. Then, I head toward the new furniture and sit. The cushions envelop me. It really is a nice couch. The kind I might see sitting in my aunt and uncle’s den. “The only downside to this is that there’s no room to train now.”
“We shouldn’t do that again.”
My mind flashes to Brawler putting his hands on me. His arm wrapping around my middle. How good it felt. There’s only been two times since moving to the Heights where things felt normal. Watching TV with Oscar last night and training with Brawler.
He’s probably right. We shouldn’t train together again. It’s too much temptation. But I want to. “We should go to a gym,” I press.
“We can’t.”
His attitude pisses me off. “Why can’t we?”
He runs a shaking hand through his short-cropped hair. “You know what I don’t get? One minute, you’re pushing me around because Johnny fucked some other girl and cut your back open. The next, you’re giggling into your phone because he bought you furniture.”
“I wasn’t giggling into the fucking phone.” My mouth drops, and I suck in a breath. “How did you know he fucked some other girl?”
He gives me a look of disbelief. “It’s not hard to guess. He handed me a bunch of bags filled with clothes. I know exactly where you were. My brother used to date the owner.”
I stand, ready to escape to my bedroom. She told him. That Lynette girl is probably the owner, and she told Brawler what happened. Mortification brims at the surface. I’m so embarrassed I could scream.
Brawler moves in front of me, blocking my exit. “Like what the fuck is it, Kyla? Do you want to be a princess? Is that it?”
“Why don’t you man up and tell me what this is really about?” I threaten. He wanted me yesterday. The bulge in his pants clear evidence. His arm around me made the thoughts churning in his brain abundantly apparent. Plus, he fixed me up last night. His gentle fingers made sure I was okay.
That had to mean something, and he just doesn’t want to admit it.
Brawler just stares at me. His chest raising and lowering in front of him.
I raise my eyebrows. I’m not saving him from this. He needs to talk.