Steele gave an easy shrug. "Us. Zane. Ferryman. Hades." He handed my robe back to me, and I curled my fingers around the warm satin. "Shadow Grove hasn't been ruled by the police department in a really long time, MK."
I bit the inside of my cheek, hating that we were back to "MK" again but too much of a stubborn asshole to admit it. Instead, I walked over to my front door and opened it for him.
"Will you be okay here alone?" he asked with a frown, tugging his boots back on. "I can come back later if you want."
Yes, please come back.
"I'll be fine," I told him, contradicting my own thoughts. "Scott and I had an argument earlier; he probably wants to make amends."
Steele wanted to argue with me, I could see it all over his face. But he didn't. He just gave me a long look, then sighed and scrubbed a hand over his head. "Alright, just... call if you need me. Okay? No matter what time."
I jerked a nod and he exited my apartment. He made it all of three strides down the corridor before my control snapped.
"Did you mean what you said?" I called after him, bracing my hand on the door frame. He paused and turned back to face me, confused. "When you said you..." My voice threatened to dry up, so I swallowed heavily. Goddamn nerves. "When you said you haven't given up on us?"
You mean too much to me now. Those were his words, and they were echoing in my mind like a song stuck on repeat.
"Every damn word," Steele replied without hesitation. "I know that I fucked up, and I know that I hurt you, but I can't change the past. All I can do is change the choices I make in the future and hope that maybe one day it'll be enough to earn forgiveness." He quirked a smile. "I figure torturing a guy for seventeen hours is a good place to start."
I rolled my eyes and bit back a grin. "Yeah, I guess it is."
Steele came back to where I stood, reached out, and gently tucked a stray curl of pink hair behind my ear. "You're one of the best things in my life right now, MK. I'm not risking losing you again, okay?"
Stupid, love-sick butterflies took flight in my stomach, and I cursed every moronic one of them. Fucking butterflies never thought with their heads.
"Okay," I replied after a pause, "but on one condition." I bit my lip, already kicking my own ass for being such a goddamn pushover.
Steele cocked his head to the side, silently questioning, and his fingers slid into the hair at the nape of my neck.
"Stop calling me, MK," I whispered, my eyes locked on his pretty gray ones. There was a flicker of confusion in his gaze, then understanding and satisfaction.
His lips pulled up in a grin as he dipped his face to mine. "Anything you want, Hellcat."
Steele's kiss was the final nail in the coffin of my anger. Every press of his lips and swipe of his pierced tongue stripped my defenses away and touched my soul. I moaned as my body melted under his hands, and I probably would have dragged him right back into my apartment had we not been interrupted.
As it was, a pointed throat clearing made us reluctantly part.
"Maddie," Scott hissed, standing there in front of the elevator with a bag of ice cream tubs in his hand, his nose a painful shade of purple, and his cheeks flushed red with outrage. "What the fuck? I thought I was your boyfriend?" He gave Steele a deliberate look, like I was meant to still be keeping up the charade.
Yeah, that wasn't happening.
Steele just gave a smug laugh and pressed a very deliberate kiss to my lips before letting me go.
"Keep dreaming, champ," he told Scott, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. "She was never yours."
The wink Steele shot me as he stepped into the elevator was pure sex, and I almost forgot Scott was standing there as I held Steele's gaze until the doors slid shut.
"Maddie," Scott snapped, looking all kinds of pissed off—something I seriously didn't have the patience for after the weekend I'd had so far.
I blew out an irritated sigh. "Scott, I thought you were coming over to make up for that creepy-ass shit you pulled this morning. But if you're just here to act like a spurned lover—which you're not—then you can turn around and fuck right off. I'm not in the mood."
Whoops, there went my whole plan to make more friends.
Scott's face flashed with intense anger, but it was gone as soon as it’d come. Instead, he smoothed his features out to a calmer, more placating expression.
"I'm sorry," he replied in a careful tone. "I'm sorry. Really. I just... I know they really hurt you, and I'm worried. That's all." He took a couple of steps closer, but I blocked the doorway with my body, my hand still braced on the frame.
"Maybe it's not a good idea to hang out tonight," I told him with a frown. "I think I just need some time to myself."
Scott shook his head. "What? No, don't be silly. I brought ice cream." He held up the bag in his hand like that was somehow an access card to my apartment. Yeah, not today, buddy. Besides, I could see the label through the clear plastic bag... Mint choc chip. Gross.
"Thank you, that was sweet." No pun intended. "But I really would prefer to just call it a night. We can hang out on Monday at school, okay?"
Scott tried to protest again, but I was already closing the door in his face. Not the politest I'd ever been, but also not the most impolite, so I should get points for that much.
He knocked on the door after I’d closed it, calling out my name. But I just flipped my locks and retreated back to my couch. The glass-blowing show was still on, and I quickly found myself way too engrossed in the god-awful potato sculpture one of the women was making.
Then again, art was so subjective. Just because it wasn't to my taste, didn't mean others wouldn't love it like it was the next statue of David. Maybe. They were very realistic old potatoes made out of glass.
My phone rang again, and I missed seeing whether the potatoes won the category as I went to answer it.
"Hey girl," I said, bringing the phone to my ear. "What's up?"
"Not much," Bree replied. "Just got home from a dinner date with Dallas. Did, uh, did something happen with Scott today?"
I froze, apprehension rippling through me. "Why do you ask?"
"I dunno," she replied with a laugh, "maybe the twelve missed calls I just had from him? I wanted to call you before I replied, though. Is he being a needy weirdo?"
I let out a long sigh as I took my phone back to the couch and flopped down. "Big time. Hey, did you seriously use your phone tracker to tell him where I was today? That's not cool, Bree."
"What?" she shrieked, almost bursting my eardrum with her shrill volume. "No! Fuck no. No way. Is that what he said?"
I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "Yep."
Bree dissolved into curses. Creative curses. Dallas was really influencing her vocabulary.
"Do you want to come over?" I asked, cutting her off. "I could really do with an in-person bitch session, if it's not too late?" I glanced at my phone and wrinkled my nose when I realized it was already after nine.
I half expected Bree to say no, but I should have known her better than that.
"Hell yes," she replied quickly. "I can be there in fifteen. Want me to bring wine?"