Recovery

by Nicole Dykes

  It’s past ten when my plane touches down in Nashville. I discover Quinn waiting to pick me up at the airport. I’m worn and still numb, not allowing my mind to go to Trey the entire flight even if that’s where it relentlessly tried to go.

  I just stayed frozen.

  Quinn looks almost the same as the last time I saw her, which wasn’t that long ago. But it feels like a lifetime has passed. She still dresses the same, jeans and an oversized tee swallowing her frame, although now she has a glistening wedding ring on her finger and a baby strapped to her chest.

  Holy. Shit.

  It's insane how much can change in a few years.

  “Hi, Mya.” Her voice is still sweet and raspy, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears.

  “Hi, Quinn.”

  We go out to her car, and after she secures her infant in the back, we drive the streets of Nashville. It’s all lit up, bright from neon as she navigates through the city, deep into the heart. I cringe at all the cars around us. It’s definitely a big city, and I crave desolate land, a whole lot of nothing. But at least it’s not Kansas City.

  She doesn’t ask about Trey or what happened. It’s not really her style to pry. She parks her car in front of a building tucked in with several other shops and businesses. I see “Lyrics and Ink” printed on the large glass window, and I smile.

  Quinn has always loved music. It’s something we used to have in common. She taught me a lot about pitch and different notes when I was a kid, eager to learn with hope in my heart. Hope that I might get out of where we came from and find my way to a stage.

  Stupid.

  She points to the building next to the one we’re parked in front of. “So, that’s the bar, the Lyrics part of Lyrics and Ink.” I notice that door has the same symbol as the tattoo shop. “And then . . .” she points to the other door, “that’s the tattoo parlor. The Ink. We can put you to work at either place.”

  “I don’t know how to tattoo anyone,” I try to joke, but my tone comes out dull and flat.

  “They could use a receptionist.” She looks over to the bar. “But I'm partial to the Lyrics side.” She cocks her head to the side. “You still sing?”

  I shake my head quickly, shutting that shit down. “No.”

  She studies me but then shrugs it off easily. “Okay. We can always use a waitress. Completely up to you.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised they’re so willing to help, but it’s still hard to accept. Although I did go to Rhys. I had no other choice.

  “I definitely have waitress experience.” My eyes meet hers, and I hope I've softened my gaze. “Thank you, Quinn.”

  “Don’t sweat it. You can stay with Logan and me if you want to.” She looks into the backseat. “But it does get a little noisy in the night.”

  I smile at that, looking back at her sleeping baby.

  “Or you can stay in the loft above.” She points up, and I look up at the brick space above the shop with a few windows.

  “That would be great. I’ll pay rent.”

  She waves me off and turns off the car, opening her door. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll have a few roommates though.”

  My entire body tenses, but I don’t object. I can’t. I just need to be patient and save. Then I’ll get far away from humans.

  “Okay. That’s fine.” I hop out and grab my bag as she grabs her baby. We go into the tattoo parlor, and I see Logan immediately. He seems to be the only one here.

  “Mya.” He stands up. “Holy shit. You grew up.”

  Quinn rolls her eyes. “Men.” She hands their baby to him, and he cradles the still sleeping infant to his chest. She smiles at him, and I see the same love they’ve always had for each other in her eyes. “She’s going to live upstairs with the guys.”

  His brows furrow. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “It’s fine,” I cut in, the exhaustion growing to be too much.

  He grins, a playful smirk on his face, and he seems happy. “Well, you better give them hell then.”

  I have no idea who “the guys” are or why he’s smirking, but I don’t care. “That’s pretty much what I do.”

  He smiles and then sadness comes over him. I know he wants to say something about Trey, but he doesn’t. Quinn leads me up the stairs at the back of the shop and then pushes open a metal door that looks heavy.

  “Jesus fuck, Quinn.” We walk in, and a guy—a fucking hulk of a man, all muscles and tattoos—puts his hand over his heart like we startled him. I notice instantly he’s dressed only in a white towel. His muscles are pulled tight and tense, inked ridges and lines. I struggle to look up at his face. He grins at me, his teeth straight and white. His facial hair is scruffy but not a full beard. “Who’s your friend?”

  Quinn is not amused as she folds her arms over her chest. “She’s your new roommate, so you better put on some fucking clothes.”

  “You kiss my friend with that mouth?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her, and if I were in a better mood, or in a better life, maybe I would find him charming as hell.

  “I do a lot more than that.” Quinn winks, and he chuckles as he hold out his large hand for mine.

  I notice the full sleeve of tattoos on that arm, the other only has a couple. His chest isn’t covered in them, but he has a few there too. “I’m Jase.”

  “Mya,” I say, not taking his hand. I don’t want to touch him. I don’t want anyone touching me.

  He shrugs it off and drops his hand just as another man comes up to us, wrapping an arm around him. If I thought Jase was huge, this guy is fucking massive. Jesus. What the hell do they feed them down here?

  This one has sandy brown hair as opposed to the black hair Jase has on his head. Jase’s hair is wet, but a little shorter than this one’s. And this guy is dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. “You got us a girl roommate, Quinn?” He’s eyeing me like a wolf but sporting a bright smile that seems friendly.

  “She’s not for either of you fuckers.”

  “Well, she sure isn’t for Tommy or James,” Jase says, dragging his fingers through his hair, and I'm ashamed of myself when my eyes track the muscles of his bicep and forearm flexing tightly.

  More men? Jesus.

  Quinn rolls her eyes at him again. “Not. For. You.” Her tone is direct, like a big sister’s, and it’s oddly comforting even though I should be annoyed. I don’t need anyone looking out for me.

  The guy nods his head at me, his gaze trailing down my body before meeting my eyes. “Well, that’s a damn shame.”

  “Ignore him,” Quinn says.

  “Don’t ignore me, sweetheart. That would break my heart.” The guy feigns hurt, and I roll my eyes, but he just continues to smile. “I’m Finn.”

  “Mya,” I say again. I turn to Quinn. “Who are Tommy and James?”

  She looks around the empty loft and then looks at Finn. “Where are they?”

  “Probably fucking.” He points with his thumb behind him.

  And Jase nods his head, his bottom lip protruding. “More than likely. They headed to their room like ten minutes ago.”

  Quinn nods her head. “They’re married and live in that room.” She points to where Finn was just gesturing.

  A little relief goes through me. Two less men trying to get into my pants. I look at Jase and Finn, no trace of a smile on my face.

  It’s okay. They can try.

  They’ll learn real fucking quick, I'm not here to play.

  Good. God. What the fuck was Quinn thinking? She just brought the most beautiful girl I've ever seen into our loft, said she’s living here now, and expects me not to make a move.

  I mean holy fuck.

  I’m not sure who she thinks I am, but I'm not that fucking guy.

  This girl just got off a flight and still . . . gorgeous. Her black hair is down and curly, a beautiful fucking wild mane I want to feel between my fingers with a sexy golden hue to it. Her big brown eyes have golden flecks in them to match. Her lips are full and red. Her skin is a fl
awless deep caramel color that looks so goddamn silky and smooth.

  She’s tall for a chick but would still only come up to about my shoulders. Her body is lithe, and I’d say she’s a runner but still has fucking fine curves. Her lips form a straight line, giving off an “I will cut you” vibe, but I don’t fucking care. I can take some pain.

  Probably more than most.

  Seriously, what was Quinn thinking?

  Of course, I do have to remind myself she just went through a tragedy, and I'm not a total prick, so I pull it back a little.

  Quinn pushes past Finn, eyeing me. “Get dressed.” Mya follows behind her as Quinn leads her to the one empty bedroom in the loft, the one next to mine.

  I don’t follow Quinn’s order to get dressed, and I smirk over at Finn, who looks like he wants to pounce.

  We never fight over women. Never. It’s a code with us.

  But I think I might go toe-to-toe with the huge motherfucker for this girl.

  “Thank you, Quinn.” I hear her sultry voice, quiet with exhaustion. “Really. Thank you.”

  Quinn gives a quick nod. “It’s no problem.” Her eyes narrow on Finn and me across the room. “If they give you any trouble, let me know.”

  Mya gives a small smile and a nod of her own head. “I’ll be fine.”

  I grin at that, having no doubt. Pretty sure if anyone’s in trouble here, it’s me. Quinn leaves her there, walking toward us, her don’t-fuck-with-me look perfected. “She better be fine.”

  We both nod our heads in agreement, but it’s me that pokes the angry mama bear. “Don’t worry. I’ll take the best care of her.”

  She punches me in the arm, and I laugh, rubbing the spot because she has bony fucking fingers. “Jase. I love you like a brother, but I will kill you.”

  I laugh at that, knowing it’s true. “I’ll be good.”

  She looks over at Finn, who raises his hands in surrender. “Me too.”

  “Good.” She pushes past us again and heads out the door. Finn closes it behind her, and Mya disappears into her room without another word. Maybe she’s tired. Or maybe she didn’t want the awkward small talk.

  I can appreciate both, but what kind of roommate would I be if I didn’t try to get to know her a little?

  Finn clearly has the same idea and is already heading to her room.

  Motherfucker.

  I follow him, still only in a towel, but there’s no time to dress. We both reach her open door at the same time, and I see she’s looking around the room. It’s pretty bare. Just a bed, a side table, and a dresser at the moment.

  “Do you need anything?” I ask.

  She turns around to look at us, clearly not happy to see us from the look on her pretty face. “No. I’m fine.”

  “You sure?” Finn prods, and I feel my body tense with irritation.

  “I’m sure.” Her big brown eyes meet mine. “I just need sleep.”

  I don’t miss her eyes trailing over my chest, and I can’t hide my grin. My body doesn’t offer sleep, but she’s sure looking at it.

  She drags her eyes back up to my face and then looks over at Finn. “Can I help you guys with something?”

  Attitude is dripping from her, and it does nothing to suppress my need to get to know her. She lost her little brother. She left her home to come here.

  Suddenly and without warning, it hits me hard that beyond the deep brown orbs with golden flecks, there’s agony. Grief. Guilt. Regret. Deep-seated pain that more than likely goes deeper than losing her brother. I see other shit besides her body and the beautiful face glaring over at my best friend and me. I see anguish.

  Fuck.

  My throat dries, and I feel like a dick as I take a step back. “We’ll let you get some rest then.”

  Finn looks over at me as I nudge him in the side and jerk my head toward the living room. He huffs reluctantly, “Yeah. We’ll see ya tomorrow. Hopefully you like eggs. I’m fucking great at making eggs.”

  I roll my eyes, but he’s rewarded with a small smile that makes my chest ache, already wanting to see that again. “Thanks.”

  We leave, and I pull her door shut to give her privacy, walking into my room next to hers and sensing Finn follow me in. “Dibs.”

  I grab a shirt and pull it on. “No.”

  “Bullshit. No. That’s how this works.”

  I grab some jeans and tug them on before ripping off my towel. “No,” I say again, not entertaining his claim on her for even a second.

  “What the fuck, man?” He sits down on my bed.

  “She’s our roommate, dipshit.” And she’s mine. I don’t say it though. Especially because it sounds fucking stupid and caveman-esque. “Quinn and Logan aren’t going to like us slobbering all over her.”

  “Pretty sure I saw your drool on the floor out there, asshole.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Let’s go to the bar. Blow off some steam.”

  “Whatever,” he huffs, and I know he’s not really that into her. I know my best friend well, and she’d just be a plaything to him till he got bored.

  He won’t fight me for her.

  Good.

  I wake up the next morning, still tired. Still numb. I’m starting to think this is just how my life is going to be from now on—haunting nightmares, sickening abyss, not caring, not awake even when my eyes are open, just floating through life and hating everything.

  I climb out of the bed that was surprisingly comfortable and stretch my arms to the sky. I’m only wearing a thin t-shirt, but it’s large and goes almost to my knees. After ducking into the bathroom, I slowly make my way toward the kitchen area of the loft, praying they have coffee.

  I hear booming male voices before I reach them and see four men all crowded in the kitchen. Jase is the first I see, and he’s dressed today, wearing tight black jeans that have holes in them with a gray hoodie that clings to his body.

  A body I’ve already seen far too much of and shamelessly checked out almost every inch of. I blame the exhaustion and grief.

  Finn turns to me, his dark blue eyes shining as he nods to me. “Ah, our new roommate’s up! Fucking finally. You think I was going to make breakfast for just these fuckers?”

  I notice he has a spatula in his hand and is, in fact, making eggs in the frying pan on the stove. “I really just need coffee,” I say, and I know it’s rude. I know they want to be friendly, but I just want to be invisible.

  “Coffee is much better than the shitty eggs Finn makes,” one of the two men I haven’t yet met says as he walks to the coffee pot and pours a cup before handing it to me. “I’m Tommy.”

  I stare at him, and then my eyes go to the man sitting at the island bar in the kitchen. That must be his husband, James, and I wasn’t fucking kidding about what they feed them down here. All four men are massive and tattooed. James is Black like me with his hair trimmed short and a bright white smile.

  Tommy is Hispanic, I think. He has the same rich bronze tone my friend Veronica has.

  All four of them are broad and thick with muscle. All gorgeous, with bright, shiny smiles and tattoos. If I was a normal girl, I'd be in heaven right now.

  “I’m Mya. I . . .” I look around again and then back to Tommy. I take the coffee mug from him. “I won’t be here long.”

  He just smiles at that, shaking his head and taking a seat next to his husband. “Yeah. I said that too.”

  James looks to me. “Yeah. I think we all thought we wouldn’t be here long.” He looks over at Jase and Finn who are on the other side of the island. “But they aren’t so bad.”

  Jase raises his middle finger, and I see it too is tattooed. “Fuck off, we’re great.” His voice is deep and smooth. And his eyes are a beautiful hazel color. I notice this as they lock on me. “You sleep okay?”

  I nod my head, taking a drink of coffee. He seems a little different today. Less playful. Less flirty. I'm not sure I like it. He’s looking at me like a wounded bird, someone who needs to be treated with care.

 
; “Fine.”

  Finn fills a plate with eggs and bacon and places it on the bar. “Eat.”

  It’s an order. I haven’t been told what to do for a long time. As if he knows it’s a mistake to boss me around, Jase leans his ass back against the counter, hot mug of coffee in his hands which he brings up to his mouth with a smirk, still eyeing me.

  “No thanks,” I say, holding up the coffee. “I just need a caffeine fix.”

  “You start work with me today,” Tommy says, sliding the plate closer to the edge toward me. “Eat and then I'll show you the ropes.”

  Are they for real?

  “No. Thanks.” I look at Tommy, assuming he must work at the bar. “I’m going to get ready, and then I'll be there.”

  Finn places a hand over his heart like he did last night, like he’s wounded. “I slaved over the stove for you and you aren’t even going to take a bite?”

  “Don’t do it,” James coughs into his hand. They all laugh and joke around. I sneak out, going to the bathroom to take a shower. When I turn off the water, I grab a fresh towel from the linen closet in the bathroom, surprised that four men have managed to do laundry themselves. But this place is fairly tidy.

  I wrap the towel around myself, tucking the corner of it between my breasts and looking outside the door before darting into my room and getting dressed.

  When I’m finished getting ready, I walk out toward the living room and kitchen. I only see Jase now. The place is empty and quiet, his large body sitting comfortably in a chair in the living room with a plate in front of him on the coffee table.

  “You can eat now. No one else is here.”

  I huff, annoyed, and my brows press together. “You think I care about people watching me eat?”

  His large shoulders shrug in indifference. “I know you didn’t want to eat, but you have to be starving.” His hazel eyes lift up to look at mine. “We live together. We’ll probably be sharing some meals.”

  “No. We won’t.”

  “Is that so?” His tone is light, playful, but his voice is gravely and sexy. I hate it. Because I don’t.

  “Yes. I’m not here for some fun, little sitcom-type comedy. I’m here to earn money and get the hell out.”