I run my hands down my front while I stare at myself in the long mirror hanging at the end of the bathroom, against the far wall. The mirror itself is framed in real gold, but what I see doesn’t make me feel as beautiful as the mirror appears to be.
Kendrick will get what he wants. My breasts are barely contained in this dress, and the dark circles of my areolas can be seen through the thin material.
“My sweet! Let’s go,” Kendrick calls for me from the bottom of the staircase.
And like the good pet I am, I answer his order for me and go to him, waiting for the treat of the farmer’s market to show what a good girl I’ve been.
Chapter Five
SEBASTIAN
I still feel like I got the life sucked out of me after a week of being back from the warehouse. At least I wasn’t fucking dead, that is a huge bonus. Jaxon is in bed, recovering from a broken arm, the same arm that he banged a rock against the ground to get my attention. He is badass. Heaven’s leg is broken in three spots, and he needs a blood transfusion with how much blood he lost from the wounds. Grayson’s side is healing. After yanking out the steel rod, it was a through and through, an easy stitch-and-go, according to Jaxon.
Owen is fine. Four stitches on the back of his head and he is still a stubborn ass. Maybe I had hoped the solid smack against the wall would knock some sense into him.
Nope.
And since we are the only two able to walk without passing out, we are on a grocery run together. Owen is just a joy to be around, really—a pure fucking joy.
“Get out of the way, asshole!” he yells out the window and gives the guy next to us the bird.
A poor old man who can barely see over the wheel. Jaxon would have his ass. “Do I need to drive? I’m tired of you yelling at everyone. You’re making my head hurt.” I rub my temples, wishing I would have had him come alone. The man is a damn menace and annoying.
“He was going ten under the speed limit. I don’t have time for that bullshit.”
“All we have his time. Do you know how long it is going to take for everyone to get back on their feet? Months, Owen. Months. And that old man wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was doing the best he could. Maybe you should start giving a shit about others around you instead of your inapt ability to always be a complete asshole!” I shout and slam my fist against the leather dash.
His hands turn over the wheel, clutching his fingers tight until his knuckles are glowing white. He doesn’t say anything. He knows.
“Whatever the hell your problem is, fix it, or you’re going to end up hurting someone you care about.”
“At least I didn’t blow up the group.”
“Oh, you sure about that? After I told you to walk away, you grabbed onto the vault, or don’t you remember? If you hadn’t touched the damn vault, the explosion wouldn’t have happened!”
“Or maybe if you did your goddamn homework, Sebastian, we would’ve been better prepared, and we wouldn’t have nearly died.”
“Right, blame someone else for your actions. Pretty fucking typical.” I lean my elbow against the door and place my head on the window, letting the cool feel of it rush over my sweaty skin. I don’t know why I'm being like this. Owen is … Owen, and he isn’t going to change. I have a lot on my mind, mostly Gabriella, and how after so long of searching for her, I haven’t found her. It’s weighing on me. I’ve failed her.
“Whatever,” Owen huffs and takes a left into the town of Trinidad. The street for the most part is shut down. Huge tents line either side of the road, and they go on and on, probably to the end of the city limits, which is only about a mile or so.
I’d forgotten about the market. I was ready to go to the grocery store. This was perfect. The day was beautiful, a light cast of gray skies, typical weather for northern California, and people have umbrellas strapped to their sides just in case it pours. Rain is always likely at some point during the day.
We park at The Lighthouse Grill, a restaurant that is so delicious people from all over the country come to Trinidad just to try it. Owen slams the truck in park and pouts for a second.
I hat fighting with him. Owen tends to bring the aggression out in people, and I fell right into it, knowing better. He is a big guy and a bit of a teddy bear deep inside.
Real deep.
“I’m sorry, Owen,” I apologize first since I’m the one who jumped all over him about being an ass to that old man. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry. My head has been all over the place, and I’m stressed out.”
“I understand,” his deep voice fills the cab of the truck. “I know I need to work on my temper. I’m trying, but nothing works. I didn’t mean to blame you for the explosion.”
“It’s okay.” I know he means it. Owen never says anything he doesn’t mean, and he was right. I should have found the bombs inside the wall, but I didn’t. That would be another thing to add on to the list of failures in my life. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go enjoy the market and maybe bring Quinn some girly shit, since she is surrounded by testosterone.”
“I don’t know,” he says, clicking the door open. “You’re so thoughtful, I’m sure she gets plenty of girliness from you.”
“Fuck you,” I laugh and get out of the car. Our doors shut one after the other, and we stand side by side as we watch the locals enjoy their weekly market of fresh fruits, vegetables, meats, and homemade gifts, like candles and jewelry.
We tower over most of the crowd, and it’s surprisingly quiet for people here. The smell of fresh popcorn and cotton candy drifts through the air, and Owen and I groan in unison.
“Cotton candy,” he says
“Popcorn,” I reply, licking my lips.
The stands are next to each other, and I buy a freshly popped bag of buttery, salty popcorn and Owen grabs a pink cotton candy. It’s the size of his head. Watching his sausage-sized fingers pluck the candy from the stick is amusing, but I’m not going to give him shit for it. We all have our vices.
We walk down the market first to see which vendors catch our eye, and on the way back through, we stop at the ones we decided on.
“Homemade cheese.” Owen points to one of the last tents. “I fucking love cheese.” He shoulders his way through the crowd, causing shouts of disproval from a few people who are staring at him with daggers in their eyes.
I slither my way through the crowd. “Sorry about him.” I wave to another person who is complaining about Owen. “Sorry. So sorry. Have a great day.” I finally stand next to Owen, feeling people burning a hole in my back since I’m standing next to their new enemy.
“I’d like the goat cheese, all the flavors. Sebastian, they have a blueberry spread to die for. You have to try it.”
“No, I’m—” He shoves it in my mouth before I can get my entire protest out, but as I chew, I realized it is good. Really fucking good. “Can we get five of those?” I ask through a full mouth, trying not to spray crackers everywhere.
“Swiss, mild white cheddar, sharp cheddar, actually, can we have one of everything?” Owen asks, pulling out his wallet.