Page 18 of Painkiller (Sin Records #3)

“Casey, too, please. I know I’m not doing anything wrong, but…” she trails off, biting her lip.

“Your secret is safe. But why are you working there? And don’t say money. Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“That’s private.”

“Fine, but I’ll get it out of you, eventually.

” I shrug my shoulders, taking a sip of the hot drink and grinning behind the cup.

“We’ve swapped spit. That makes us besties now.

Maybe we should have a sleepover and braid each other’s hair.

” A laugh tumbles from her chest, and her hazel eyes dance.

It twists my insides in the strangest way, taking me by surprise.

Needing it to go away, I clear my throat and change the subject.

“So, you must come here a lot if they know your order.”

Her tongue darts out, swiping the bit of mocha decorating those lush lips. My jaw ticks, unable to stop myself from following the motion. “At least twice a week. More if I can. I’ve been coming here since I was a teenager.”

I nod my head toward the counter when Tom is staring daggers at me. “Are you sure nothing is going on there? He looks jealous.”

Her brows dip when she looks over her shoulder. A soft sigh escapes her as she subtly shakes her head. “I’m sure, but he has asked me out once or twice. He’s nice. Just not my type.”

“And what is your type?” I waggle my brows already knowing the answer.

She pokes her tongue out at me before she turns thoughtful, shrugging her shoulders.

“I really don’t know. I just know it’s not him.

He’s too…nice?” She covers her face with her hands and giggles.

And that’s the problem with girls who don’t want nice guys .

People like Tom are safe. Like me? We leave bruises.

“God, that sounds awful. I don’t mean it the way it sounds.

It doesn’t matter what my type is, anyway.

I don’t have time for boyfriends or dating. ”

I can understand that. Especially given what I know about her. It’s perfect, really. She doesn’t have time for dating. I don’t have time to be someone’s mistake. “You mentioned that the other night. So you like to keep things casual?”

“More or less. It’s just easier.” She props her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her palms. “What about you, pretty boy?”

“I think we established that already, too,” I chuckle.

“So, which one did you give your attention to last night?” She wiggles her brows and grins. “Marci or Debbie?”

“Uhhh.” It shouldn’t bother me, but my face heats because I didn’t know their names.

Fortunately, Poppy doesn’t blink. “Well, Marci is the taller one with black hair. Debbie has the massive boobs with brown hair.”

“Good to know, but it still doesn’t help. They were both in bed when I woke up this morning.”

“Nice.” She sticks her fist out, and my head falls back with a loud guffaw as I extend my closed fist to meet hers.

“To be fair, it’s possible I didn’t hook up with either. I don’t even remember going back to their place.”

“It happens.” She looks at her phone, then gathers the trash. “I hate to eat and run, but if I don’t catch the next train, I’ll be late.”

But I’m not ready for this to be over because this entire time, none of the shit that usually plays on a loop in my head has made an appearance.

Not my mom or my dad, and the constant nagging feelings of guilt and disappointment.

Not my resentment toward my brother. Even the fucking nightmare hasn’t circled my mind, and it usually takes me days and copious amounts of alcohol and drugs to get those fucked up memories out of my head.

Then sleep inevitably wins, and the cycle begins again.

Somehow, every time she’s near, she’s kept the demons away, and with it, the overwhelming and conflicting emotions that I struggle to keep contained. Whatever voodoo she’s weaving, I need more of it. It’s not the numb I’ve chased for years. It’s better.

I stand up, taking the trash from her and throwing it in the bin next to us. “I could give you a lift.”

Her eyes narrow, a hand gripping her side as her hip juts out with sass. “You can’t remember getting to their apartment, but you drove? ”

“Calm down, Halfpint. I meant you could catch a ride with me. As in a taxi. Or I could call a car.”

“Oh. Right.” She nods, looking a bit embarrassed. “Well, I need to be across town.”

“West side, right? Same school Casey goes to? Ballet school, I mean?”

“That’s the one.”

I’m curious about why she doesn’t go to the school near her apartment, but it doesn’t matter. “I got you. Come on.” I jerk my head toward the door and lead her out. With my fingers tucked between my lips and my other hand raised, I signal an empty cab passing by.

I open the door, gesturing for her to get in first. I slide in behind her and rattle off the address.

We don’t talk on the drive there, but unlike the walk to the café, it’s not awkward.

In a few minutes, the car is in front of the building.

She reaches for the handle, ready to exit, when I stop her. “Need a lift when you’re done here?”

For a moment, I think she considers it, then shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’ll be good on the subway. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Anytime, Halfpint.” I wink as she exits. “Don’t move just yet,” I tell the driver, opening my door and climbing out of the vehicle. “I’ll be right back.”

I look down the street and spot who I’m looking for. Not waiting for the light, I run across the street and hit the glass of the black SUV. The window rolls down, and annoyed eyes glare at me. “What the fuck, Jagger?” Will grumbles.

“Open the door.” He does, and I hop inside. “I need you to tell me everything you know about Poppy. ”