Page 30 of Saint

It looked like Macy’s at Christmas time in here.

I would clean it up tomorrow.

Then I tiptoed out of my room and into Soraya’s, seeing her hair flaring all around her. I smiled, then tiptoed back to my room, climbed back underneath the covers, and closed my eyes.

And for the first time in a really long time, I fell asleep with a smile on my face and one thought... hope.

‘There’s no one else in the world I’d rather have snoring next to me.’

– Text from Ophelia to Saint.

Chapter 10

Saint

It was the next day.

I could have called Tempie or Agatha and asked what they thought about what I was doin’, but I decided against it.

If this was goin’ to work, then it needed to be me puttin’ in the work.

Therefore, I grabbed a bouquet of daisies and one of coral roses.

After I paid, I headed out to my truck.

Yes, I considered taking the bike; however, since it was a full moon and the crazies were out, I didn’t want to chance anything harming Ophelia.

And she had someone who depended on her.

I didn’t know about Soraya’s father. But I wanted to.

I wanted to know where that fucker was.

And as I drove to the Robbins’s place, I hoped that Ophelia had rented the house to the right and not the one to the left.

However, as I turned on the street and saw her Pontiac in the driveway to the left, I knew.

I knew that somehow, someway, I was goin’ to move them out of there the first chance I fuckin’ had.

Yes, the house was technically structurally sound.

But a strong wind could possibly blow it the fuck over.

And seeing as those two girls had somehow gotten under my skin and into my heart, that place wasn’t good enough for them.

Pulling into her driveway, I shut the truck off, tagged the flowers, opened my door, and climbed down.

I made it up the walk, wincing when the floorboards creaked underneath my weight.

Fuck. Me.

I took in a breath, not that I was nervous or anything like that.

But for a man who has never been on a date before in his life, well, this was a first for me.

Which was why, after another minute, I looked down at myself.

A new black long-sleeve shirt, sleeves rolled up to the forearms, clean jeans, and black boots, my kutte on my back, and my hair slicked back and not underneath a ballcap, I took in a deep breath and knocked on the door.