dash

I wake the next morning, surprised to find myself alone in bed. I stretch out, reaching to Evie’s side and find it cold, telling me she’s been awake for a while.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I step out into the hallway with a long yawn, my body on autopilot as I stagger into the kitchen for coffee. I’m rubbing my eyes clear when movement stops me, the sight of her sitting in front of the canvas I’d stolen from her mother’s garage making me smile. I try to get a glimpse of what she’s painting, but it’s abstract.

Gorgeous as it is, it’s got nothing on her.

Soft notes creep out of the earbuds she’s wearing pull my attention to her, my slow steps into the room giving me a better view of her closed eyes as the paintbrush slides effortlessly splashing vibrant colors in front of her.

She sways slightly, her hair still wild from sex and sleep, her bare legs stained with paint. She’s in an old, button-up garage shirt she’d hijacked from my closet, ruined as she mouths the lyrics blaring in her ears and as a she raises her arm instinctively. I watch her let the piece invade her soul and as she releases a low sigh of contentment, she takes me right along with her.

Her eyes flutter open, her lips curling up just slightly as she takes in the canvas and lets out a gentle hum, tipping her head back to look up at where I’m standing behind her.

“Good morning,” she whispers, leaning her head against my chest before reaching for the back of my neck.

I bend to meet her lips, the feel of her going limp against me pulling my hands to her waist, savoring in the feel of her hooking her arm around my neck. My hands move slowly up her front, palming her breasts gently as I dip my tongue into her mouth to taste her. She releases a low moan, pulling away a moment later, dreamy-eyed and sated.

“Mornin’ pussycat,” I sigh, giving her a final peck on the lips. “How long have you been up?”

“Couple of hours,” she admits. “I was too excited to sleep.”

“Yeah?” I smile, happy when she nods and leans back against my chest, glancing back at her work.

“I dreamed of paint,” she admits, pulling one of her legs up in front of her as she rests her brush between her teeth, studying the canvas closely. “What do you think?”

“I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep,” I say quietly, kissing her hair. “It’s almost as pretty as you.”

“Thanks,” she smiles.

“You’re welcome,” I wrap my arms around her shoulders, hugging her hard. “Have you eaten anything?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I came straight in here.”

“You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she admits with a long stretch as she slips off the stool, coming to a stop in front of me as she glances down at her hands with a smirk. “I’m covered in paint, though. I need to rinse off first.”

“Go take a shower,” I kiss her forehead. “How do you want your eggs?”

“Over medium,” she smiles as she follows me toward the kitchen, stopping in front of the sink to scrub her hands.

“Well, I don’t know how to make that, so scrambled it is.”

“Perfect,” she giggles, swiping a sip of my coffee and making a face at the bitter, black brew before stopping in the living room to pet the cat. “Vinnie, you know you aren’t supposed to be on the couch, buddy,” she whispers, pulling him into her arms. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.” 

“You named him Vinnie?” I ask, sliding the carton of eggs onto the counter as I sip my coffee.

“Yep. Like Van Gogh,” she smirks. “He’s in my top three, beaten only by Picasso and Pollock.”

“So, if he’s third in line, why’d you name him Vinnie?”

“Just fit,” she shrugs.

“Oh,” I snort. “I thought it was because the ugly little fucker is missing part of his ear.”

“Oh, my God!” she gasps, shielding him from me. “That’s so mean!”

“Oh, don’t cover his ear,” I roll my eyes, the deep laugh slipping out before I can stop it. “It’s not like he can hear me.”

“Baby!” she shouts, swatting at me as I choke on my coffee. “Yeah, serves you right, you ass,” she smirks as her features hold their offense. “You’re a handsome little devil, Vinnie,” she croons into his patchy fur, smiling when he lets out a ragged meow, flashing his snaggletooth. “Don’t listen to him.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about there,” I tease, laughing at her when she flips me off and sets him down in front of his food.

The sight of her stripping my paint covered shirt off as she slips down the hallway before she disappears into my bathroom has me second guessing food when the knock sounds out across my apartment, pulling at my attention.

I move toward the door and find the cat sitting there impatiently, waiting to flee.

“Don’t fuckin’ scratch me again,” I warn him low, shooing his objecting form away before pulling the door open.

I can’t say I’m surprised when I see who’s waiting on the other side.

“Hey man,” Mason says, awkwardly meeting my eyes.

“Hey,” I reply. “What’s up?”

“Tips,” he says, pulling two envelopes from his back pocket and handing them to me. “Evie left a few behind, too. They’re in the top one.”

“Thanks. I’ll head up there in a little bit and clean up.”

“We took care of it last night,” he offers and this time, I am surprised.

“Thanks,” I say again, clearing my throat as he nods.

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves me off before glancing back at me nervously. “Is she here?”

“Yeah, she’s in the shower.”

“You mind if I wait?” he asks, moving to step inside. “I need to talk to her.”

“About what?” I ask, blocking his entry.

“What?” he asks, his narrowed gaze falling somewhere between surprised and amused.

“What are you gonna say to her, Mason?”

“I don’t have to tell you that, Dash.”

“While she’s here? Yeah, you do.”

“Why? Because you’re sleeping with her?” he balks. “You think that makes it your business what I say to my sister?”

“No, but I think when my girlfriend comes to my apartment with half her shit and spends the next two days crying her eyes out because the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world made her feel like she wasn’t welcome in her own home, that kinda makes it my business,” I reply, the clench of his jaw telling me I’ve hit a nerve. “Look, I know I fucked up in more ways than one, so if you want to hate me forever, I made my bed. I get it,” I hold his eyes. “I can’t force you into forgiveness, Mason. What I can do is protect her from having her heart broken twice by the same person while she’s with me, so that’s exactly what I plan on doing.”

“I didn’t…” he shakes his head, trying desperately to hold on to his anger, but the guilt creeping in won’t let him. “I didn’t mean to make her cry. I was ups-”

“I don’t care, Mason,” I cut him off with a shrug. His anger might be fading, but mine isn’t. Not by a longshot. “As far as what you’ve got to say about me, do you really think you’re telling me something I don’t already know?” I ask. “I know I’m not perfect or even good enough for your sister, but I also know she showed up here destroyed. I know that despite all the shit you had to say about us being together, that devastation? That wasn’t because of me. And I know what I feel for that girl and I know that I don’t give a shit anymore if anyone likes it. That’s what I fuckin’ know,” I continue. “So, yeah. Maybe what’s going on between you and her is none of my business, but ask me if I give a shit and I’ll tell you what I know about that, too,” I shrug, taking a final step toward him. “Get mad, yell, throw another punch, spit your insults. Do whatever the hell it is you gotta do, but you’re gonna have to do it to me from here on out, because I’m done watching you do it to her,” I promise. “As long as she’s mine and until I have your word that you’re done treating her like shit, you can forget where I live.”