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I looked at the man that could quite literally be the most disgusting person I’d ever met, and I’d met a whole lot of gross ones in prison, and said, “Morrigan doesn’t date people that are harassing her, no. But I don’t harass her. I love her.”
The man winced.
“Please be sure to leave her alone from now on, or I’ll have to take care of it,” I growled.
Beady-Eyed Man nodded once, swallowed hard, and then closed the door.
I reached for Morrigan’s door, then grinned wide when I felt the locked handle.
“Let’s see,” I said, looking at the numeric keypad above the lock. “If I were Morrigan, what code would I use?”
I tried her birthday, her favorite month and day—Halloween—then what used to, once upon a time, be her telephone code.
All three denied me access.
Then, on a whim, I used my own birthday.
The keypad went green, and I felt a wave of happiness inside of me.
Pushing through the door, I was surprised to see that the apartment’s interior definitely didn’t match the exterior.
“Wow,” I said as I took a look around.
The whole entire apartment had been revamped. New floors. New paint, trim and walls. New furniture. It looked like I’d stepped right into the middle of a magazine display.
“I combined two apartments,” she rasped. “How’d you get in?”
I grinned at the woman that had a cold bottle of water to her throat, staring at me from where she was leaning against the countertop.
A brand-new, beautiful quartz countertop that was black with ice-blue chips in it.
“Your favorite color,” I said as I ran my hand over the smooth surface.
She smiled a sweet smile that reminded me of the ones that she’d grace me with a long time ago.
“I don’t know if you still like coffee,” I said, “but I’d almost bet that it’d feel way better than cold.”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was hoping it’d help with the tightness.”
I felt my belly clench.
But before I could say “I’m so fuckin’ sorry I wasn’t there” to her, my phone rang.
Unknown: I need help. ASAP. Bring a change of clothes for Morrigan and get to the clinic quick.
I frowned, but before I could say, “Who is this?” the next text popped up.
Unknown: -Folsom
“Folsom just texted and said that she needs help. ASAP,” I said. “She said to pack a change of clothes and get there to help her.”
Morrigan sighed, abandoned her water bottle, then went into her bedroom and closed the door.
She came back out fully dressed in a pair of sweatpants, a black t-shirt that looked like it was practically painted on, and black Converse.
My mouth watered.
She also had a black bag in her hands that I hoped held enough clothes and toiletries for her to make it a few days at my place.
