Page 34 of Pretty Broken Wings

I’m simultaneously laser-focused on her while the rest of the world feels like it’s floating. Fuck me? I never asked her to fuck me. But also, it pisses me off that she’s telling me she won’t. I haven’t even asked.

Not that I would.

“Shall we get to work?” Raven’s words are clipped.

Absolutely not. And yet, Axeldoesseem extra focused on this girl. Even if she’s lying, I’ve heard the jealousy in his voice. For some reason, he wants her. Unless this is some elaborate prank to get another woman in my bed so he can laugh at me about it later?

To be fair, Axel never laughed at me about Jess. Actually, he never even brought it up.

I’d like to keep it that way.

Right now, I have a goddamn trial to prep for. I’m not sure where I got distracted in all that.

I straighten. My prefrontal cortex is developed now. I won’t let another of Axel’s whores fuck up my life. She’s here to do a job, and I’m here to get the job done.

So, I step back and let Raven inside.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Gage and I work for a few hours, both of us acting like the conversation on the porch didn’t happen, which it most certainly did. I’m setting up boundaries. I don’t care if I need a knife in my hand to do it; I’m fucking doing it. I’ll stab a man before he can take advantage of me again.

The work is detailed and slow, but there’s something satisfying about digging through this piece of shit’s life, stackingup the cards so he loses as much as possible. The atmosphere here is also so much better than the shop, despite the hulking glower from across the table.

We only have two more days before the first trial on Gage’s schedule, and I get caught up in the details, only breaking when Gage rubs his temples and stands up. He mutters something about letting the dog out, then disappears down the hall.

I perk up. I heard the dog barking when I got here. Animals are always better than people.

I take a minute to really take in Gage’s living room. I don’t want to look like I am spying, not that he can see me doing it. Well, he might be able to. I’m not sure how much he can see, and I’ll be damned if I ask. The living room is sunken, lined with flower print couches on one side and floor-to-ceiling windows on the other. It looks out into a small yard and woods beyond, the leaves brilliant oranges and reds.

I hate to admit that it’s pretty. Homey, even.

Gage comes back into the living room, guiding a pitbull by its collar. The dog is panting, mouth open in a smile. Once he lets the dog outside, it stands there, wagging its tail. Gage moves to the kitchen, and I hear the fridge open.

Well fuck. I realize I got distracted by the sudden location change and forgot to pack lunch.

I watch as the dog moves into the yard, squats to pee, and dances back up to the back door. It stands there, tail wagging and tongue out. Fuck, it’s cute. Sucks that it’s stuck with a grumpy asshole.

The dog digs at the door where there are streak marks on the glass.

Gage doesn’t come to let the dog in. Instead, I hear the microwave going. Maybe he can’t hear it.

I shrug, getting up and going to the door. I at least want to say hi. As I crack the door open, the dog shoves past me andbarges into the house. I freeze, and so does the dog. Its whole body is frozen, and its tail is stuck up in the air.

Fuck, is it scared?

“It’s okay, baby,” I keep my voice low. Immediately, I notice the dog’s cloudy eyes.

Oh shit. Can it not see?

“Sorry, bud.” I step back. “Not your owner.”

The dog sniffs a few times, then unfreezes. It skirts past me, running for the living room with its tail between its legs.

Oh my god, the dog is scared of me. Fuck. I feel like a horrible human being.

“Did you pack lunch?” Gage’s voice floats into the room over the sounds of the microwave.

Cool. Can this get any more uncomfortable? I shut the door and glance at the dog again, who’s taken up residency where Gage was sitting on the couch.