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I kept my gaze on my toes as he held the door for me.
Before I could lock it, he did it himself with a set of keys I didn’t know he had.
Then he was walking silently beside me as we made our way to his truck.
The drive to my hotel was chaos.
The only words either one of us said were related to the traffic or the bad drivers who were passing us.
By the time we got up to my apartment, I felt like the silence was unbearable.
However, instead of leaving when he saw me safely inside, he followed me in, surprising both him and me.
He walked into my place and narrowed his eyes as he took a look around. “What is all of this?”
I nearly laughed.
I knew what it looked like.
Chaos…everywhere.
I glanced at all the human hair on every available surface and shrugged. “None of your business.”
I made wigs for a living.
I’d started making them when I was sixteen and my sister thought it’d be funny to cut all my hair off the day before my prom.
Her reasoning for doing so was twofold.
One, she couldn’t stand me.
Two, she didn’t like that I was going to prom with a senior she had her sights set on.
Though, it was news to both me and that senior.
Anyway, the day before prom, I’d had to go to a wig shop to look for something suitable to hide my bald head—though it was only bald because I’d shaved it all the way off after Sage’s hack job.
I’d been desperate, and the wig shop lady, who’d made them all by hand, had been so sweet and kind.
After that, we’d built a rapport, and I’d learned the craft of her trade.
Now, I made wigs for people all over the world.
People sent me the hair—hair that was donated to them by either a family member or a friend—and I sent them back a wig.
I didn’t do it for the profit, though.
I did it because it made me feel good.
That was why I barely broke even.
I wouldn’t charge people at the lowest points in their lives.
He picked up a finished wig that I was sending out tomorrow and inspected it.
“Do you make these?” he asked.
I snorted. “I don’t know what gave you that idea.”
