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“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there and I was so busy not paying attention-”

“Brenna?”

I blink, my words frozen in my throat. I know that voice. “Gabriel?” I frown.

“Yeah,” his lips tip up into a crooked smile and it does something funny to my belly. The fizzy feeling I had before growing even bigger and wilder. His eyes flick over my shoulder to my brightly colored apartment behind me. “Wait, do you live here?”

Pick up your jaw, goober.

My jaw slams shut with a clack of my teeth at my inner voice’s urging and I plaster a smile on my face. Gabriel is a nice man. A very nice man. He makes me feel seen and safe and I have no idea what it is about him that elicits those feelings, but somehow he does. Most people give me some type of feeling. A lot of the time it’s good things. I believe that no matter what, humans at their very core are made for kindness. Happiness. Care. I get that it doesn't always seem like it, but that’s what I believe. Somewhere, deep inside even the most terrible person, is a little part of them that wants to be cared for and in turn love and care for someone or something else. But the feeling I get from Gabriel is the same as I get from Kristie. Protection. It’s…nice.

Say something! “Oh, um, yeah, this is me!” I wave behind me, cringing a little at how messy my entryway is.

I mean, I wasn’t expecting any visitors. I never do. Especially not a freakishly handsome man like Gabriel.

“Huh,” he says, his hazel gaze resting just over my shoulder, “I just moved in.”

Chapter 3

Gabriel

“Oh did I forget to mention that?” Grammy asks, leaning on the wall beside Brenna who stares up at me.

“Really?” she says, her blue eyes huge in her face. “Wow. I’ve lived here three years?” she asks me, nose scrunched up. “Yeah, three years, and I’ve never had a neighbor. I figured the place must have something wrong with it.” Her wide smile slips and somehow, her eyes get even bigger, “Oh not that I think there’s something wrong with the place. I’m sure it’s perfectly fine.” She clamps her mouth shut, her rosebud mouth pinched shut.

A snort escapes me, before a chuckle follows it, like a chaser. “It’s fine, babe. I have no idea why it’s been empty so long. It’s a nice place.” Apart from all the fucking souls. Especially the one staring at me mouthing “babe” with a disgusted look on her face.

“Gabriel?” My gaze snaps to Brenna, her brow pinched slightly. “Are you OK? You just look a little…” her voice drifts off and she looks over her shoulder. Of course she doesn’t see a thing.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, just ah, admiring your artwork.” I wave behind her, pointing at the…flower? Cat? I frown at the painting behind her, trying to figure out what the hell it is.

“Oh boy,” Grammy whispers before slapping a hand over her bright pink lips.

Brenna tilts her head, her red curls sliding off her shoulder. “My pussy?”

I cough on thin air, hacking so hard I’m bent in half, palms on my thighs as I try to catch my breath. A warm tinkling sound fills the air and it takes me a moment to register it as laughter. Souls don’t usually laugh, I guess. Blinking my watery eyes I’m met with Brenna’s concerned gaze.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I should have called it my vagina. Although that isn’t quite right. My vulva. Yeah, that’s better.” Brenna mutters, as if to herself. “Not my personal vulva. It’s an abstract work I bought from a fundraiser. For women's things.” She whispers the end.

“Oh, Bren speed talks when she’s nervous,” Grammy says. Not that I pay attention. I’m still stuck on vulvas.

“Brenna, sweetheart, maybe stop talking about your vulva.” I try to adjust my thickening cock discreetly, but Brenna catches my movements.

A rosy pink climbs up her face, making its home on the apples of her cheeks. Instead of darting her gaze away, she surprises me by staring wide-eyed, her little tongue darting out to wet her lips. Great. Now all I can think about is her lips wrapped around my throbbing cock.

“Whoasers, do you have a licence for that? Brenna, don’t look!” Grammy yells, stepping closer to Brenna, the light that surrounds her growing in intensity. Huh.

“Um, yep. I can do that. No more art talk,” Brenna says, zipping her lips, locking them and throwing the key over her shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s probably for the best,” I joke.

No one laughs. Grammy gives me a weird look, and a sad head shake. I’m not actually known for my jokes. That’s Kristie’s wheelhouse. Speaking of, I can't believe she bought the place I had my eye on and then dumped me here without telling me who lives next door. Unless…

“Does Kristie know where you live?”

Brenna gives me a funny look. “Yep. We have girls’ night once a week.” She beams and I find I can’t be irritated by my sister if she brings this much joy to Brenna.

It’s odd, because my sister isn't really known to bring joy, but I guess even hitwomen need friends and girly nights out.