just fall onto other people’s mouths. That was what pissed me off the most and you didn’t even seem to care that it did.”
“Because I didn’t chase after you?” The scoff came out of me before I could stop it, fueling the fire that didn’t need any help growing.
“It’s not about the chase!” she yelled, her fists clenching at her sides. She shook her head and walked away from me, peeling off her mesh sweater and draping it on the back of the kitchen chair she passed. Her white tank top was practically see-through thanks to the cheap material and the darker bra visible underneath.
“What was it about then?”
She gave me her back as she washed her hands in the sink before toweling them off and pouring herself a glass of water. “Listen, I want to work on my project tonight. Ramsay can stay here if you don’t want to take him back with you. I’ll figure it out.”
“No.”
She froze halfway to her bedroom before slowly turning on her heels. “What?”
“I let you walk away because I knew it wouldn’t do either of us good if I did chase after you. We were angry. Tensions were high. Things would have been said that couldn’t be taken back. So, yes. I watched you walk out.”
To that, she had no reply.
Walking over, I stopped just in front of her and watched the way her body leaned into me. It was a natural response that I lived for. Always had. When she was little, it made me feel like she knew I’d protect her. But now? Now it was different. That need to protect her was tenfold even though I’d learned a long time ago she could look out for herself.
“This time we’re talking it out because we are both adults whether I like to admit it or not. And I don’t, you’re right. I hate that you’re not little Della anymore because that means the world can get you and I can’t do a fucking thing about it. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try like hell even if it pisses you off.”
“By making me angry and calling me a child? How does that help anybody?”
It helps me. “Are you going to work on your project?”
“You’re changing the topic?”
“Technically, it all ties in. Thought maybe you found some inspiration after the conversation we had before you stormed out.”
“Our argument,” she corrected.
All I did was shrug.
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
I didn’t deny it.
“I’m going to try getting the project started. Sometimes all it takes is throwing some color on the canvas for the mood to set.” Tilting my head, I looked down at her and watched her stare back. “What?”
“Get changed.”
She blinked.
“I know that isn’t what you wear when you paint, so go change,” I told her again. It wasn’t a suggestion. I knew what she got messy in, and it wasn’t her school clothes. The black jeans she wore now were destressed, showing a lot of skin through the tears, and I knew her father would have hated it. He’d made comments on the style before. She never wore things like that because of it. I was glad to see her do her own thing, even if I agreed too much was exposed.
It made me snort.
“What’s so funny?”
I waved her off. “Change.”
She mumbled, “bossy” under her breath as she walked into her room, closing the door behind her.
Ramsay ran over to the door and pawed at it, making me shake my head. The rodent loved her, that much was easy to tell. He was usually happy to see me when I got home, but the day she’d dropped him off I came home to find a puddle of piss he left in the kitchen since she decided not to share her TV tip with me in the note she left. Guess that was payback for me being a dick. Then again, I liked to think the dog was being loyal to her by making a mess, his way of telling me I was an asshole.
Guess what, rodent? I already know that.
When she was ready, paint-covered overall shorts covering her body and hair in a messy updo, she eyed me where I still stood in the kitchen. “Are you going to watch me paint?”
It wouldn’t be the first time. “Did you eat yet? Figured I could make dinner while you worked.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
“Della.”
Her shoulders tensed. “I mean it. I ate this afternoon, but I just don’t have an appetite tonight. I’ve