Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

VORTEX

The so-called journalist lives in a dump.

It doesn’t surprise me. The cost of living in Calamity City is at an all-time high, and while he’s got enough of a following to be a nuisance, he hasn’t hit it big. I bet he dreams of having a million followers on social media, where his opinions will be heard and he can have an even bigger audience to preach to.

It’s bad enough he’s got the local media interested in his supposed findings.

Fuck.

I don’t particularly feel like killing him, though that has more to do with the ensuing cleanup than anything else. One of Caleb’s men can handle the body, but I’ll still need to do a thorough sweep of the house to make sure there are no security cameras. He’s probably paranoid enough to have them on hand, which is why I pull the ski mask over my head right before approaching the front door.

Sure enough, he has one of those video doorbells. I sigh. It means he won’t be opening the door to me, and he’ll probably call the cops if he sees me—not that they’re going to answer any time soon. I had to call in a favor, but no one’s going to bat an eye if this shithead calls the police.

I grab it, shoving it into my pocket to deal with later, then try the door on the whim. It doesn’t open, but it doesn’t matter. The apartment building has seen better days, and the lock on the door is flimsy. I lean down, using the set of lockpicks I carry with me, and after a moment of concentration, it’s open.

Stupid fucker. He should’ve gotten a deadbolt.

I let myself into his apartment, closing the door quietly behind me and turning the lock. I’m greeted with the welcome sight of him sleeping on the sofa. It must’ve been a long night of research and slander.

Well. Is it slander if it’s true?

Semantics. That doesn’t bother me in the slightest.

My heavy footsteps on the floor must alert him to a surprise visitor, though, because he jolts upright when he hears me approach.

Peter Donaldson turns pale and shakes his head. “Who—who the fuck are you? Get out? I’ve got—alarms. People who will look for me!”

“Sit right there, and you’ll get through this in one piece,” I tell him, feeling a surge of adrenaline rushing through me. He’s not going to survive the evening, of course, but this will be much easier if he thinks he has a chance.

I doubt he’ll believe me, though.

He’s a greasy looking man, with a messy beard and wearing an oversized shirt. He trembles as he looks between me and the closed, locked front door.

“I don’t want trouble,” Donaldson says. “If you want cash, I have a few hundred bucks in a safe.”

I smile at him, though of course he can’t see that through the mask. “Nah. I think I’d rather look at your computer equipment. Go ahead and log into your cloud storage for me. I think you have a few things you’d be relieved to have gone.”

I think that’s when Donaldson realizes exactly who I am and why I’ve come. He whimpers and shakes his head, but when I threaten him with a wickedly sharp knife, he gets off the couch.

I need to remind him periodically of what I could do to him before he finally relinquishes everything I need.

“And that’s that,” I say to him.

He turns around and looks at me in disbelief, red-rimmed eyes going wide. “What? I gave you everything.”

“You pissed off the wrong people, bud.”

I may be big, but I’m faster than people expect. Before he can even scramble out of the office chair, I slash his throat, grimacing at the mess. There’s always so much blood, but it’s the quickest, quietest way to be done with someone.

I leave his body in the chair then methodically begin my sweep of his apartment.

As expected, he has several cameras and even a microphone.

Definitely a paranoid fucker, but then, he had reason to be once he started fucking around with the mob.

I retrieve the hard drives from his computer, grab his phone and tablet, then shove them all into the small bag I’ve brought with me. Once I’m sure I have everything, I change my blood-splattered shirt and pull off the mask so I can get out of here in peace.

It’s easy enough to get out, and no one bats an eye at me. He never even had a chance to call the cops, and no one will be looking for him any time soon.

I get into my car, driving the shit straight to the dump. The guy there is paid off, too, and he waves me through.

It’s all tedious to get rid of everything, but being fastidious is why I’m in the position I am.

Only once I’m finished do I head back to my own small apartment—which is still much nicer and cleaner than Peter’s—and shower.

I clean up well, and after trimming my beard, I put on a set of nice clothes for my date with Seven.

My phone pings just as I head out the door, and I groan in annoyance. I check the text, unsurprised to see it’s from Connie.

She’s asking for more money, even though I’d given her what she’d wanted the last time.

I sigh. I don’t know what to do about her. I don’t think she’s suddenly going to learn to be responsible, but I can’t just leave her out to dry either.

She doesn’t know how much I make—hell, she doesn’t even know what I do for the Spade Family—but she knows it’s not an insignificant amount.

And she knows her big brother won’t tell her no.

Much like Seven, she has me wrapped around her little finger.

I take my time, not wanting to seem too eager, but I still have to get through Calamity City traffic. It means I’m still early when I get up to Caleb’s penthouse, but Seven is already dressed. He’s wearing a simple button-down shirt and a pair of trousers, ready for a night out.

I’m surprisingly nervous as I nod to him. “Ready?”

He gets up, sliding on a pair of nice shoes that are worlds better than the flip-flops he usually wears. “So we’re going to a drag show?” he asks, sounding dubious. “I wouldn’t have expected you to like something like that.”

I bark out a laugh, for all that I feel self-conscious about it. “Yeah, well. Surprise? Did you eat already?”

Seven nods. “Caleb told me you wanted to go straight to the show. But it doesn’t start for another few hours?”

“Yeah,” I tell him, still a little off-balance. “I thought you might want to meet the performers.”

He blinks at me. “You what?”

“The performers. The drag queens,” I clarify. “You’re shut up in here all day, and a few of them hang around on their off time. So… I thought you might want to meet a few of them.”

Seven’s surprise is palpable, but he shakes it off quickly enough but for a slight grin before he throws himself into my arms. Surprised, I wrap them around him, squeezing him tight. “That would be amazing,” he says with considerably more enthusiasm than he’d shown when I’d first walked through the door.

This is already going better than his date with Havoc, I hope, which has me feeling slightly smug. He’ll come out of this with friends if everything goes according to plan, which is better than the funk he’s been in since he’d returned from the circus show with Havoc.

“Let’s go then. We’re a little early, but it should be fine.” I squeeze him again, then let go of him. He surprises me again by looping his arm in mine, and he tugs me toward the elevator. I chuckle and let him pull me along. “All right, all right. We’re going.”

“I’ve never been to a drag show,” Seven says when we get into the elevator. “I’ve seen it on TV a few times.”

“Yeah? Since getting here?” I ask, trying for casual.

For once, he doesn’t start to act cagey about the nosy question. “Yeah. I caught a few episodes on one of those streaming things, and it was…” He frowns and trails off, then shrugs. “Anyway, I thought it was cool. I just didn’t expect to see them live.” He tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Is this too plain, do you think?”

I shake my head, warmed by his reaction to my plan. “Nah. You look good.” The compliment is easy to give. He always does, and now is no exception.

I lead him through the casino while he starts to talk about the episode he’d seen, where the drag queens had had to use materials from a bathroom for a runway look. I chuckle at his descriptions, shaking my head.

“I’d be completely useless at something like that.” I elbow him in the side. “What do you think? Could you make something using a bath poof or whatever?”

“Only if I just had to cover my nipples and my cock,” Seven says with a snort. “Nothing fancy with that towel fabric.”

I try to imagine a dress made out of terry cloth and fail. I start to ask him what they did manage to do, but we arrive at the backstage door before he can answer. “Here we go,” I tell him. “Right through here.”

The guy at the door knows me and waves me in, and I nod to him.

Seven is nearly bouncing at my side, and I lead him down the hall. The space between the doors is massive, but I hear the bustling and chatter as soon as I open the right one. It takes them a moment to spot us, but as soon as they do, one of the queens waves to us.

I glance beside me to see that Seven is utterly gobsmacked. He stares with wide eyes around the room, drinking in the sight of the rampant chaos, and I nearly puff out my chest in pride. I did this. I made him happy. I put that hopeful look in his eyes.

Not Havoc, not Caleb.

Me.

The stage manager, Linda, is flitting between the different performers. She’s a tall black woman in her fifties, with long curly hair and nails to rival those of the drag queens. She smiles when she spots me and walks over. “Hey, Vortex. Caleb said you might be coming.” She glances at Seven. “And who’s this?”

“Hey, Linda,” I greet her. “This is Seven. He’s…” I don’t want to call him Caleb’s boyfriend, and I definitely can’t call him mine. “He’s a friend.”

Seven’s good mood drops, and for a moment, I think it’s because I’ve called him a friend. But when he inches back so that he’s partially behind me, I realize it’s about her, not me. I blink, surprised. Linda is easygoing, and I don’t think she’s particularly intimidating, but I realize I’ve never seen him around women.

And if what Caleb thinks of him is true…

“Hey,” Seven mumbles, pulling me back out of my thoughts.

“She’s the stage manager,” I explain, hoping that will help. “The queens’ wrangler.”

Linda’s smile turns gentler, and she laughs softly. “That’s right. If not for me, these queens would be tripping over their heels on the way to the stage.”

“Fuck off, I would not!” one of the queens shouts.

“Seven’s really excited to meet the queens,” I say, amused by the exchange. I take a step back so I can take Seven’s arm in mine again, squeezing it.

Seven nods, still eyeing Linda warily but not trying to get back behind me again.

Linda nods and looks around. “Della Mortay is on last tonight, so you can go bother her. She might even give you a few beauty tips, Vortex.”

Seven manages a smile, albeit a small one. “He does need them,” he mumbles.

“I see why the queens tell you to fuck off,” I tell her dryly, flipping her off. “I’m only surprised that’s not the only thing they say to you.” I turn to Seven, trying to be as gentle as possible while teasing him, “And you. You shouldn’t be encouraging her.”

“Della!” Linda shouts across the room. “Fans for you! If you sign something, it’d better not be skin!”

Della Mortay looks up from applying lipstick. “I told you to use the full name! Della Mortay ! And I’ll sign whatever I want!”

“I didn’t bring anything for her to sign,” Seven says, sounding dismayed.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’m sure Linda has a piece of paper or something?”

“Of course,” Linda tells him. She grabs a show flyer from a nearby table and hands it to Seven.

He takes it from her, acting like a wary cat, but he doesn’t snatch it gracelessly from her. She hands him a pen, and he takes that, too.

“There we go,” I say. “You want to go meet some people?”

Seven flashes a look at me that’s pure panic, like he thinks I’m going to abandon him.

“I’ll be right here,” I reassure him. “They won’t bite.”

“Yeah,” one of the others chimes in. “We’d smear our lipstick, and that would be a pity.” She crooks one long-nailed finger at Seven. “C’mere, babe. Let me sign that for you. Do you wanna watch me put on my mug?”

“Careful,” a bald, pale-skinned queen warns from closer to the back. “It’ll take three hours, and she’ll still be ugly.”

Seven carefully approaches one of the queens, which means I can turn my attention to Linda. She’s watching Seven keenly, though.

“What’s up with him?” she whispers.

I take a deep breath, debating whether to tell her the truth. She’s safe; I know that much. She won’t share it or gossip, and she might be a potential friend and ally for Seven—and fuck knows he needs those. “He’s Caleb’s new… boyfriend.” I grimace. “Under his protection.” She’s probably only met Caleb a handful of times, so I clarify, “That’s not always a good thing. He gets intense. And Seven isn’t really the monogamous type.”

It’s a jumble of information, and I’m not sure any of it really makes sense.

“He’s been hurt,” I continue. “Badly.” I watch him as he smiles at Della, getting more animated as she coaxes him out of his shell, then turn back to Linda with a sigh. “He’s moody, and with good reason. I was hoping he could make some friends here.”

Linda nods. “Sure. If he can follow orders, I don’t mind having him around. And I’ll tell the queens to keep an eye out for him if they’re out in the casino.”

“He’s not allowed to leave,” I say grimly. “It’s dangerous. So, if he tries to make a run for it, please try to convince him to come to me. Or something. I don’t know.”

I can tell Linda wants to ask more about that, but Della Mortay suddenly shouts, “Vortex! Where were you hiding this sweet little minx?”

I force a chuckle. “That’s all I can say,” I tell Linda, and before she can respond, I walk over to Della and Seven. I wrap an arm around him and squeeze. “What’s he doing now?”

Seven grins at me. “Nothing she wouldn’t do,” he says, and that shine is back in his eyes. I’m grateful for it, even if my plans for him to be friends with Linda might not work.

Yet.

Della Mortay has half her face on, although the eyeshadow is clearly not done yet. She has sharp, tanned features with high cheekbones, a band around her head to pull back her hair. Her eyes are a deep shade of brown, warm as they look at Seven.

“This charmer just asked me where I was attending university.” Della pretends to swoon. “My college years are well behind me, darling, but I assure you I have enough stamina for all the frat boys.”

Seven grins at her. “So do I. Hey, Vortex. Have you met Della Mortay?”

“Yeah, we go way back,” I say with a smirk. “Long enough for me to know she can definitely take all the frat boys until they’re too exhausted for more.”

Della laughs and licks her lips. “It’s not my fault the quarterbacks couldn’t keep up. I had them crying for mercy when I was done with them.”

“I’m sure you did,” I say. “You’re not tormenting Seven, are you? I’d hate to have to get the stern voice out.”

Seven holds up the show flyer. “She signed it for me.” He edges a bit closer to me though, like he’s seeking my protection.

Della doesn’t miss that movement with her eagle eyes, but she smirks at me. “I would never torment anyone, Daddy. You know that.”

I blush despite myself, something Seven notes with a curious look. “Don’t even get started with that,” I tell her.

“Daddy,” Seven repeats, grinning at me. “Is that what you like to be called, Vortex?” His eyes widen as he looks between the two of us. “Have you?—?”

“No,” I say, at the same time Della says, “Absolutely not.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to act like it’d be a hardship, Della.”

“I like my men small, dainty, and obedient,” Della says. “Which is the opposite of this hairy beast here.” After a pause, she adds, “All right, and I like the big frat boys too. There’s something about a himbo that just does it for me.”

For all that Seven is usually quick on his feet, he seems a little at a loss as the two of us banter. I don’t know if he’s wondering if he should admit that we’ve fucked or not, if he should join in the conversation, or if he wants to stay out of it entirely.

“Can’t see I’ve ever gotten into the himbo type,” I say. “But frat boys do come in all shapes and sizes…” My eyes go to Seven. I briefly wonder if he’s ever attended college, but I doubt it.

“What about you, hon?” Della asks Seven. “What gets your motor going?”

Seven coughs, glancing at me. “I don’t really have a type, but that’s okay, because I’m not really the monogamous type either.” He grins, but I can tell it’s forced.

I squeeze him against me. I wish I could tell him there’s nothing wrong with that, but with how possessive I feel of him—even knowing he really belongs to Caleb and even fucking Havoc—I don’t like it.

“No type at all?” Della gives Seven a once over. “Maybe this old queen should have a go at you, then.”

I glare at her. “No,” I say. I don’t want to get testy with Della, but I don’t want to share Seven with even one more person.

Seven rolls his eyes. Shaking his head, he says, “I think I’m full-up, but hey, if a spot opens up…”

She laughs and slaps my shoulder. “All right, all right. No need to get so testy.” She winks at Seven. “Now, you have any questions about drag? I should probably finish getting ready, or Linda will end up dragging me on stage in nothing but hose and heels.”

“I have a lot of questions,” Seven says, “but I don’t want to get you into trouble.” His smile is a little more sincere as he says, “I want to see the whole show. But maybe…” He glances up at me, his puppy eyes more effective than any I’ve seen before. “Maybe Daddy will let me come back.”

I nearly choke.

Della bursts out laughing, which draws the attention of the other queens. When she catches their stares, she announces, “Vortex found himself a baby boy, gals. He’s gone full Daddy on us!”

“I have not,” I groan, but Seven’s grin is so wicked that I can’t begrudge any of them their laughter.

It’s nice to see him like this.

“All right, all right. Let’s get out onto the floor, or we’ll miss the start of the show.” I squeeze Seven’s shoulders again. “Ready?”

He nods, still looking like an overeager puppy. “Thanks, Della. I’ll be back.”

“Oh, will you?” I ask, amused as I lead him toward the door.

“Yes,” he says. “Daddy.”

I roll my eyes, but I head for the exit without commenting on his cheek.

The guy at the door requests our tickets, and I let him scan my phone. Seven is practically bouncing up and down as we head toward our seats. I have to give Caleb credit; he got us good seats where Seven and I will be able to see everything up close.

“So, what did you think of Della?” I ask him when he’s settled in his seat next to me.

“I meant it about going back.” Seven eyes me like he’s expecting me to argue, but I only shrug.

“That’s up to the boss, but I’ll talk to him.” Not that I could get Caleb to do anything he doesn’t want to do, but even he will have to admit it’ll do Seven some good to be around people. He might have been a little freaked out by Linda, but the queens—Della, at least—had set him at ease.

“So will I,” Seven drawls. “We’ll have a nice, long conversation. ”

“Conversation, huh?” I start to speak again, but one of the queens sashays onto the stage, grabbing the microphone as she begins the show. With the way Seven’s attention is so rapt on her, I don’t want to talk through it.

I spend more time watching him than the show. I can always come back and see it for the umpteenth time, but his awe and wonder as they sing and dance, put on a comedy act, and involve the audience in their antics make me want to just let him have this.

So I do, and by the end of it, I feel like I know him a little better.

When the applause dies down and people start to file out of the room, I turn to him. “You ready? I’d take you backstage again, but it’s going to be complete mayhem.” I check my phone. “It’s late, though. I’ll take you upstairs and tuck you and Nacho in. How about that?”

Seven gives me a strange look. “We aren’t going to fuck?”

Yes.

Having his body close to me, hearing him call me “Daddy”? Yeah, that had gotten me revved up. I haven’t even completely shaken off the adrenaline from the violence earlier today.

I step into his personal space and tilt his head up. “Is that what you want, Seven?” I ask in a low voice.

He shivers, then nods to me. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“You think?” I ask, caressing his cheek. It would be easy to get distracted by the promise of his body, but I’d told Caleb I’d try to coax information out of him. “How about we go get dessert before we head upstairs?”

He looks even more surprised at that, downright taken aback, but he nods. “Sure.”

“There’s this ice cream place I like,” I tell him. “C’mon.”

He follows me through the door, the excited chatter of the other patrons briefly drowning out anything we could say. It’s fine. I need a minute to try to prepare myself. I’m not exactly smooth with words. It’s never been my forte. But I think that after tonight, he might trust me a little more.

Everything quiets down when we’re halfway to the ice cream shop past several restaurants within the casino, which is still open despite the late hour.

“They have a lot of unique flavors here,” I tell him. “They’ll give you little samples if you want to try any of them.”

For some reason I don’t understand, Seven looks spooked. “I… Nah. I’ll just get chocolate. No. Vanilla. Or… should I try strawberry?” He nibbles on his bottom lip, shifting uncomfortably.

All of the confident allure he’d been displaying since the moment he’d met Della is downright gone, replaced by an anxious young man who seems desperate to please all of a sudden.

“Hey,” I say, gently touching his arm. “There’s nothing wrong with the classics, but you don’t have to worry about getting something you don’t like. As long as you’re not trying to get full on the samples without ordering anything, they don’t care. It’s pretty much dead in here, so no one else is waiting.”

Seven doesn’t look reassured. His eyes dart around, landing on the woman who’s scrolling on her phone behind the counter. “She looks busy, though,” he hedges.

I scoff. “This is her job. She’ll probably be grateful for a break from the monotony,” I tell him. “C’mon. I’ll get something off the wall for us to try.” He follows me as I walk up to the counter. “Hey. Can I try the… Hmm. Blueberry ripple?”

The woman, whose name tag reads Nancy , puts her phone into her pocket. “Sure.” She gets a little spoon—which is thankfully not one of those little wooden sticks that makes me cringe just thinking about them—and gets a taste for me.

I try it, making sure to only take a little, then offer it to Seven.

He accepts the little spoon, but I notice that his hand is shaking.

“Hey,” I say, much more softly. “It’s okay. It’s just ice cream, right?”

Nancy is looking curiously at us, so I tug on Seven’s arm until he retreats a few steps with me.

“It’s okay if you just want to get vanilla, or chocolate, or strawberry,” I tell him.

“I’ve only ever had the basics,” he mumbles, and I’m not sure he meant to tell me that. “I don’t know if I’d like the others. It just… seems like a big decision.”

I don’t like this side of him at all. “Yeah?” I say anyway. “Then how about I ask for the samples, and I taste them first so you can try them after?”

Seven hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. But no more than two or three. I don’t want to annoy her.”

I want to argue that she’s doing her job and she won’t care, but I don’t want to get too brash with him. “Sure. I’ll just pick out a few simple ones. They have this lavender one I’ve been eyeing, but that can taste like soap. So we won’t try that one. Just the basics for tonight, then we can come back another time and try something else.”

I ask for the basics: chocolate, strawberry, and birthday cake, and he tries them each, closing his eyes and mulling them over. I don’t rush him, and we step out of line when another couple shows up.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I know I’m taking forever. It’s just ice cream. It’s not the end of the world.”

But maybe it is to him. Maybe it’s something huge. It certainly sounds like it is.

What Caleb had said nags at me. Where is he from? What sort of past does he have to where he hasn’t even tried different kinds of ice cream?

“Strict parents?” I venture cautiously.

His eyes fly open. “What?”

“Your parents,” I say, watching his expression as it goes from shocked to scared. “Were they health nuts? Didn’t let you have sugar?”

He laughs darkly. “You could say that.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but I’m not surprised when he doesn’t.

“My parents died when I was nineteen,” I say carefully.

Seven looks away. “Lucky,” he mutters.

Yeah. Lucky that I ended up having to take care of my baby sister, lucky that I let her drain my accounts for her get-rich-quick schemes. I thought I was doing right by her. These days, I’m not so sure.

“I have a sister,” I tell Seven, volunteering more information in the hopes that he’ll give me something in return. “She’s ten years younger than I am. Do you have any siblings?”

He stares at me for a moment, his expression distant before he slowly nods. “I have an older sister.” His lips twist into a strange smile. “Anyway,” he says, “I think I want to have chocolate.” Before I can say anything, he goes on, “I know it’s boring, but it tastes good.”

“Sure. Do you want—” I start to ask if he wants toppings, but I have a feeling that would be opening up a new can of worms. “Okay.”

We get our plain ice cream to share and head over to a table, where he sits right next to me. At least the conversation hasn’t spooked him so much that he doesn’t want to be near me.

Yet.

I think back to what Caleb mentioned, about looking into the east coast.

“I think the best ice cream I ever had was at this Italian gelato cafe in New Bristol,” I say, making sure to keep my tone casual. He freezes anyway, going still at the words. I continue as though I didn’t notice the way he’s starting to freak out, “I didn’t realize ice cream in Italy was so different from here.”

“Y-yeah,” he says, tripping over the word. “I think everything in Italy is different from here. They probably think we’re heathens for what we do to pasta.”

I chuckle. “Have you traveled much? I plan on going to Europe some day. Just going from country to country like a nomad for a little while.”

He’s gone pale, and he stops even pretending to poke at the ice cream. “I’ve traveled a little, yeah. I planned to keep traveling, but…” He makes a face. “You know what happened there.”

“Where were you headed?” I ask, my heart thundering dangerously loudly in my chest as I push for information I’m not sure he’s willing to give.

Seven shrugs. “Anywhere else.”

“I guess if you’d stayed on the highway instead of taking the exit to Calamity, you would have ended up in California eventually,” I say. “The beaches are nice there. You ever try surfing?”

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “Have you?”

I’m not sure if he’s trying to deflect or simply find out more about me, but I start telling him about the one and only time I tried surfing, all because Connie had needled me until I’d given in. He relaxes little by little, and I decide it’s best not to push him too much more.

If he’s not from New Bristol, it was somewhere close.

I finish the ice cream mostly by myself, but I don’t comment on his disinterest in the treat. I’m yawning by the time I throw the bowl away, though, and the idea of collapsing in bed sounds more and more appealing.

“C’mon,” I tell him. “It’s been a long night. Let’s head back to Caleb’s.”

Seven nods, and he’s quiet the whole elevator ride up. It isn’t until he gets inside and realizes all the lights are off that he says, “I guess Caleb went to bed early.” He takes my hand, tugging me in the direction of his bedroom. “Come tuck me in.”

“Sure,” I say. Something’s nagging at me, something I can’t put my finger on.

It isn’t until he’s pulling me toward the bed that I realize what he has in mind.

Sex.

I should be interested; hell, I am interested. But I’m exhausted after a long day, and I can’t imagine he’s feeling much more awake.

And yeah, maybe I want to shower a few more times before I touch Seven with the same hands that just murdered a man.

“We don’t have to do anything,” I tell him, then add more slowly, “You don’t have to feel obligated to do anything.”

For some reason, that seems to set him on edge. “You earned it, remember?”

“No, I earned a date,” I correct him as gently as possible. “Look. I want to, but I’m tired, and I know you are too. So let’s take a rain check on that.” I lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away like I just tried to slap him.

“What? No. You want it.”

I don’t miss that he doesn’t say he wants it. I might have the reputation of being a blockhead bruiser, but I’m not stupid. “Right now, I want to get to bed. I have to be up at six, and I still have to drive home.”

I could stay at the hotel, but I’m finding that I really want my own bed right now.

“So, rain check?” I prompt.

“Sure,” he says, pulling away from me.

He might as well have just told me to fuck off, and I reel at the venom in that single word. “All right. I hope you had fun?”

“Yeah.”

I wait for him to say something else, but when he doesn’t, I clear my throat. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” he says. “See you.”

It’s a clear dismissal, and I sigh, running my hand through my hair before nodding and turning. “Good night, Seven.”

He doesn’t bother to respond as I let myself out of his room.

As soon as I’m out of the penthouse, I grab my phone to send a text to Caleb.

Definitely from New Bristol or around there. He’s not in a good place right now. Sorry.

I don’t get an answer, and I sigh. Well. There’s no sense in hanging around. I say goodbye to the night guards on my way out and head home.

Maybe a good night’s sleep will make this better.