D is for Deacon (Men of ALPHAbet Mountain) - Page 10

At least I’d made it to my bed.

Gently, I sat up and looked around the room. My door to the back porch, a sliding glass door with a red curtain pulled aside, was shut. At least I had the forethought to shut the door behind me when I came in. It was always good to see that I was still responsible even when hammered. More or less.

My clothes were in a pile on the floor by the edge of the bed, and my initial instinct was to reach down and grab them to put them away. But the seasick feeling that washed over me as I leaned over was enough to convince me to let them stay where they were for a little bit longer. Neatness was something I valued, but there weren’t a whole lot less neat things than vomiting all over the bedroom.

Stumbling to my feet, I squeezed one eye shut and made my way to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I turned on the shower and let the water heat up while I wandered into the kitchen.

I stepped into my slippers as I made my way onto the tile of the kitchen and made coffee. Wearing boxers, socks, and slippers, I probably looked ridiculous, but thankfully I was the only one awake. I wondered where Everett ended up, since I could see in his room from the hallway and noticed he wasn’t there.

Once the coffee was brewed, I took a mug with me and went down to his room, peeking in. His window to the back porch was also open, his room a mirror of mine. Just outside his door, I could see him, slumped in a chair, one foot up on the chair across from him, and the other, somehow missing his boot, below him. I laughed. That tracked.

Taking my coffee with me to the shower, I sipped on it as I got clean. I had an appointment set up for a new tattoo and wanted to make sure I was being as courteous as possible.

It had been a while since I had a new tattoo. I got a small one right after getting out of the military, but other than that hadn’t gotten any new ink. I planned on having full sleeves but was in no rush. Each one needed to mean something. I hadn’t decided on what the next one would be until just a couple of weeks before, calling and making the appointment that day.

Feeling clean and a little less like the world hated me, I got out and got dressed, finishing the mug of coffee in one big sip. Everett was unmoved from his spot, and I shook my head as I went for a refill. I grabbed a second mug and filled it too and headed out to the porch.

Putting the mug under his nose, I gently kicked his leg, and he shuffled awake, looking first down into the coffee mug in confusion and then up at me in gratitude.

“Morning, soldier,” I said.

“Asshole,” he muttered. “Thank you for this, though.”

“Never been called an asshole in the same breath as a thank you before,” I said as he took the mug gently and sat up.

“Deal with it,” he said. “Fuck all, it’s hot out here. Why did you let me sleep out here? I’m sweating like hell.”

“I didn’t know you did. I somehow made it inside and locked my door behind me. Slept in the bed like a civilized gentleman.”

“I slept like a rock star.” Everett sipped his coffee with a smile and accidentally spilled some of it down his chin. “Shit.”

“A rock star, yeah. Saddest rock star I’ve ever seen.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be heading out to town?” he said irritably.

“I’ve got a few minutes,” I said. “Was going to make some eggs and toast. Thought you might like some.”

“I hate when you act like a jerk and then immediately offer me breakfast food.”

“I’m not sure when the last time I did that was, but sure,” I said. “I take that as a yes you want some eggs.”

“Of course, I want some eggs,” he said. “I just need to go inside and see if I need to make room in my stomach for it first. Excuse me.”

Carefully, as if the porch was floating out at sea, Everett stood and made his way inside, heading to his bathroom, mug in hand.

I went inside and made breakfast, enough for the both of us, and plated them in time to hear the shower cut off in his bathroom. He came out wearing his ancient, frayed bathrobe and tying his shaggy hair back behind his head. He had been growing it out since we left the desert, almost like a statement of his own freedom. Recently, he had taken to buzzing off everything but the top, letting it grow out, but that had stopped recently too. Now it was just shaggy and loose. I didn’t know why it bugged me so much, but it did.

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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