Page 122 of Reckless Devotion

I nod enthusiastically. “Promise.”

“Oh thankgod!Did you know that this guy lives on a diet of takeout and cheese whiz?” Her eyes bug as she throws a thumb over her shoulder at Chase, who moves toward the refrigerator on the kitchen side of the living space and pulls out three bottles of water.

“Woah, woah! What is with all the cheese whiz slander?” He holds his hands apart in mock indignation, the ever-present smirk gracing his mouth.

“It’s not real food!” Sunny enunciates loudly, chopping her palm onto her hand for emphasis.

Chase throws two of the water bottles our way, and I pluck mine out of the air and open it for a greedy pull. I’m not complaining, but being in Chase’s bed is thirsty work. My lips feel bruised and swollen, and between my legs feels a bit like that too. And he’s just out here casually swigging water from a bottle looking like a Greek god—like he didn’t just rearrange my insides and have me begging for a higher power that turned out to be him.

“It has protein…maybe?” he adds as an afterthought.

I walk over to the island counter as they both begin bickering about cheese, of all things, picking up my discarded purse and rummaging inside for lip balm to soothe my lips.

“Wait, is that—” A large hand reaches over my shoulder and pulls out the stapler, which is embossed with a Dev Ops Inc. logo on the top. “Why have you got my stapler in your bag?”

Oh shit.“Erm…”

He turns to look at me with incredulous, knowing eyes. “Start talking, Quinn.”

After a moment of hesitation, I decide to take the leap of faith and believe everything he said to me today about loving my weird, and tilt my chin. “You annoyed me, so I took it.”

“They’ve been going missing for weeks and I thought I was losing my mind!”

I shrug one shoulder. “I have seven of them at home. You annoy me a lot.”

He huffs out a laugh and swipes a hand down his face. “I’m really in for a lifetime of this shit, aren’t I?”

“Possibly. I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep you yet,” I tease, drawing a small circle around my lips with the lip balm.

He narrows his eyes, but before he can speak, the elevator clunks open again. Chase turns, blocking my view.

“You have to help her!” The familiar gravel-like bark of Mr. Clay reaches me, and I glance across at Sunny, who is equally stunned a few feet away.

“How did you get in here?” Chase asks, bemusement lacing his tone.

This building might seem more casual than the glitzy towering apartment skyscrapers in Manhattan, but from what I’ve seen, the security is no joke.

“You have to help her!” Mr. Clay urges, his watery eyes pinned on Chase as he hobbles closer. “You can’t abandon them when they need you the most. You have connections, you must be able to get her out.”

“Mr. Clay, I’m not—”

“They’re good kids, all of you are.” The old man stuns me by swiping at the moisture gathering in his eyes, directing the last part at a bewildered Sunny. “And Sunny, you’re…” His voice cracks, and he struggles to finish his sentence for a moment. “You’re a good kid,” he chokes out huskily, seeming to settle for afew words he can manage rather than whatever he had originally planned to say.

“Mr. Clay!” I sidestep Chase, revealing myself to him and seeing his eyes go wide. “I’m here, I’m okay.”

The old man gawps, freezing in place for a handful of seconds, before surprising all of us by launching at me, discarding his cane to the floor with a thud and pulling me into a hug as he half laughs and half cries. He pulls back and then attacks Chase too.

“Oh, you’re a good man!” He clubs him on the back with surprising force, and Chase stands frozen until he is released. “Thank you.”

“Mr. Clay,” I start tentatively. “Not that I’m not grateful for your concern, but it was only a couple of months ago that you were trying to get us kicked out of our building.”

He shakes his head, wiry eyebrows flapping from the force. “I must confess…I just wanted an excuse to talk to you both.”

The times we left and came home jotted down in a notepad suddenly have a whole different meaning.

The old man turns to survey us all, clutching his liver-spotted hands together. “All of you are good people. And I’m sorry I was so rotten to you to begin with. I—” The old man pauses, a crease forming between his brows. “Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve just been lonely for so long I forgot how to be nice.”

He looks so sincere that something in me melts, some final barrier that had me holding back a part of myself around our older neighbor.