Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)(49)

She stopped, looking up at me. “Am I doing it wrong?”

I smiled. “No. You’re good with your hands. But I already knew that.” Of course, that had double meaning. She caught it, too, meaning she was letting those memories in.

I crouched beside her, slipped my mask over her head, and put it up over her mouth and nose. I tucked the elastic strings behind her ears and chuckled when I sat back and looked at her.

“Cute.” And despite not being able to see her smile, I saw in her that elusive sparkle. I ran my hand over her head, hesitating on the nape of her neck. “Nice to have a piece of you back.”

I got up and went to the other side of the room, picked up my sanding pad and went back to work.

Hours slipped by, sweat pouring off my brow and dripping onto the floors leaving a dark stain before disappearing again. I was always aware of everything around me, but I didn’t need to look at London to know she was intent on her work, I heard the rhythmic sanding back and forth.

“We’ll grab a sandwich.” I threw my sander into the toolbox then lifted my T-shirt and wiped my brow. When I lowered it, she was staring at me, at my abdomen. Her gaze darted to mine and a slight flush crept into her cheeks. “Don’t you dare look down.”

Her breath hitched and her gaze locked on mine. She was still wearing the mask, but London had everything right in front of me blazing in her eyes.

I approached and she climbed to her feet, leaving the sanding pad on the floor. When I reached her, I pulled down her mask so it hung around her neck. Her hair had turned a light blonde with all the flecks of dust. She shifted her weight back and I stepped forward so I was in her space. She’d have to stand on her tiptoes and I’d have to bend my neck in order to kiss her. It was something we’d never done. I’d never kissed her.

“You did good, London.” I wasn’t calling her Raven anymore. She was ready and tonight, I’d push her over the edge. “We’ll finish it tomorrow.”

She nodded then said, “Can we do this again?”

“Yeah, baby.” I hadn’t meant to say that yet. Call her baby, but I saw a piece of the girl I knew and it made me slip.

“This afternoon?”

Cute. She wanted to sand my floors with me. But I had to talk to Tanner then Chaos and see what progress Chaos made with the guy Vault requested she get close to—Tristan Mason. I still wasn’t sure why they wanted eyes on him, as Tristan was the owner of Mason Developments. Wealthy. Clean. No political ties. He’d never been on the radar before.

“I have business to deal with this afternoon.”

“Okay.” Then she tilted her head slightly and asked, “Why by hand? They have sanding machines.”

And those were the most words I’d heard out of her at once since I brought her home. The rift in my chest began to fill with light. Jesus, light. It had been years of darkness, killing, blood, destruction, and now the light was beginning to flicker again.

I shrugged. “No reason.”

“You don’t want to tell me?”

It was like a cool wash poured over me. Refreshing and energizing.

London.

London wouldn’t accept my bullshit answer and I grinned because I’d missed her.

“I like walking through my house and knowing every inch of it breathes life because of me. I like the control over building it and I liked when I needed to clear my head, I could come here and work on the house.” I ran my hand over my head and flecks of dust rose into the air. “I need to shower and so do you. Go use the one in our room. I’ll use the guest.” I left her standing in the middle of the room, then went and showered.

I walked out into the kitchen a half hour later wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up twice, and a pair of jeans. It had become a routine in the afternoons for me to work in my office and she’d read, sitting curled up on the couch, which I could see from my desk because I always left the door open. She’d quietly read with the stillness of a praying mantis while blending into her environment. Probably what she’d learned to do with Jacob and Alfonzo. Hide in plain sight.

I stopped in the archway of the kitchen when I saw her as she reached up in the cupboard and pulled down two glasses. Her hair was damp from the shower and droplets had soaked into the back of the shirt. She was wearing one of my shirts because I’d only stopped briefly at the store on the way here to grab her a few essentials and some groceries. From mid-thigh down, her legs were bare and even from here I could see the moisture still clinging to her skin. I remember running my hands down her legs, feeling her—

“Are you okay?” she asked, glancing up at me while she poured two glasses of water.

Fuck, this was the woman who made death matter to me. “Yeah.” I pushed away from the archway and sauntered into the kitchen. “Grilled cheese sound okay?”

I opened the fridge and took out a block of cheese and a tomato. She came up beside me and placed the cutting board on the counter. I grabbed a knife from the wood block and sliced while she took out the frying pan and put it on the stove.

She worked beside me as she buttered the bread. I stopped slicing and raised my brows at that. Her hand stilled with a glob of butter on the end of the knife.

“Both sides?”

A flicker of pain crossed her face. “My dad taught me.” It took her a minute before she continued. “He said if you’re going to eat a sandwich with melted cheese, you might as well go all the way.”