Wallflower Ink

Chapter 12

· Jace ·

"Dammit," I grumble harshly under my breath.

Jerking my jeans back on, I turn to the door with a frown. I don't need this shit right now. I'm tired, too damned tired to have some kind of heart to heart with the woman who just knocked on my door. Maybe tomorrow, after I've had some sleep and a little time to wrangle in my emotions.

Tonight is not the time, and even if it were, Merri Lonán is not the right person for the task. When the soft yet sure knock comes again, I grind my teeth in frustration then take the five steps to the door in three. Snatching it open, I stare down at the green eyes that meet mine.

"You need something?" I snap then grimace when she takes a startled step back. But I hold my ground, unrelenting.

"Are you sure ..." She pauses, glances back toward her room as if contemplating a speedy escape, then looks back at me. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Her voice is small and as I watch she bites her lower lip. She's ... what? Nervous? Concerned? Both? It's hard to tell in the low light of the hallway. I pull in a deep breath then let it out quietly before I speak.

"I'm fine." I pause then close my eyes against her searching expression. I soften my tone. "Look, I'm okay, and everything will be fine. No need in worrying yourself over me, all right?"

As I open my eyes and meet hers, I groan and shake my head. "Christ, you're not going to drop this, are you?"

She shakes her head, her eyes widening as if in fear of my reaction.

"Fine."

I turn and snatch my t-shirt from the floor where I'd tossed it and yank it over my head. I turn back to face her, then motion toward the kitchen with an impatient hand. She turns on her heel and glides toward the other room. I follow, struck once more by her silent grace.

I pull a stool from the bar and flop down on it then watch as Merri goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer. From the counter, she retrieves the bottle of wine for herself. The level of her preferred beverage is much lower than it had been before and I wonder idly how well she actually likes the stuff. More than she'd initially let on, I'm guessing. But that's none of my business, just as my personal problems are none of hers.

Then again, she'd had a career whose chief purpose was butting into other people's lives--not that I hold that against her. Someone has to do it, and if it weren't for people like her there'd be no telling where me and Katie would have ended up after our parents died. With that thought in mind, I concede to her insistence and try to lose my irritation in a long felt sense of gratefulness.

Merri wordlessly sets the beer in front of me then pulls out the stool next to mine. I pick up the bottle and take a deep drink as Merri climbs up onto her seat.

She pours a generous helping of her preferred poison into a galss, sets the near-empty bottle on the countertop, then wraps her hands around the bowl. But instead of drinking she merely rolls the glass between her hands, making the liquid inside spin first one way and then the other.