“Doesn’t matter Chelsea. You cry if you need to.”
I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn’t. I had to wipe my tears and be strong just like Fender would want me to be.
“I’m ok.” Wiping my nose on the back of my hand I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I was Fenders daughter, I couldn’t stay in bed all day and wallow in my grief. Ruin wouldn’t be doing that. “My brother?”
Avery’s eyes softened. “Home soon Chelsea. Truth phoned Cali. They will be home soon.” Gently she smoothed back my hair. And fresh tears sprang up in my eyes. “Wicked is making breakfast? Do you think you could eat something?”
Honestly, the thought of food made my stomach churn but I nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I need to shower and….” my eyes swept the room. I had nothing but the dress on my back.
“Cali has left some clothes that might fit you on the chair.” Avery, ever the mind reader nodded her head in the direction of the one lonely wooden chair in the corner. “You will feel better once you have showered and eaten Chelsea. You will see.”
***
I didn't feel better. If anything I felt worse. Downstairs I could hear people talking. And for some reason, it made me angry. They were down there, eating breakfast, chatting with each other like nothing had happened.
Like my dad hadn’t just been murdered.
It made me want to smash something. Not that I could. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if a broke something of Wickeds and he shouted at me. I would break down totally.
There was no way I could go downstairs either. I couldn’t pretend everything was ok, not when my whole world was imploding. I had to stay busy. Keep my hands doing something so I didn’t have time to think.
I needed to clean.
This wasn’t my house but I couldn’t see Truth and Wicked minding. Cali had been living here and the house was spotless but there was one room she didn’t go into.
Wickeds.
Falling down onto my knees on the wet tile. I started to rummage through the cupboard under the sink. I knew I wouldn’t find everything I needed but sure enough, I found something.
A bottle of spray cleaner, cloths and a pair of yellow rubber gloves hidden behind a roll of white bin bags. More than enough for me to get started.
Armed with my goodies, I padded back towards the room where I had slept. Now I was here though I didn’t know where to start. Wicked wasn’t a slob. But his things were thrown haphazardly everywhere. Like he had a problem with putting clothes away.
It would be the perfect place to start. Dropping the bottle and clothes on to the bed I settled myself cross-legged on the floor. Yeah, I would start by sorting out all his shit and then I would clean until my eyes were stinging and my fingers were raw.
****
“What the hell are you doing?”
Wicked voice made me jump. The red lacy bra I had been about to throw into the ever-growing pile of ladies underwear swinging forgotten from my hand.
“Chelsea?” He repeated lowering his voice. “People are waiting for you downstairs so I will ask again. What are you doing?”
For a second I didn’t answer him. The anger that bubbled up came out of no where taking me by surprise. What did he mean what was I doing. It was obvious what I was doing surely?
I threw the bra at his head, and he snatched it out of the air easily.
“What does it look like I’m doing Wicked. I am cleaning this tip up. I….” I jumped as the door clicked shut but I didn’t back down. “Is the ladies underwear for you to wear or do you collect it like some lame as trophy collector…” I didn’t get to finish. Wicked was in front of me in, a second. His own anger bubbling up to meet mine. “Why are you snooping in my things, Chelsea?”
“I’m not snooping I was tidying… Jesus do you think I like seeing all your conquests underwear lying around? I should probably get myself tested after touching them.” I rambled on. I didn’t care that he looked like was going to explode at any second or that the vein in his temple was throbbing.
I just didn’t care.
“I could probably get an STD from them. That’s the kind of woman you like, isn’t it? You would rather get into bed with a whore than me? I’m not good enough for you am I? Why is that because I’m not pretty en….”
Wickeds mouth came down hard on mine, silencing me. His arms crushed me to his chest. His kiss was desperate. Like he needed to taste my lips even more than I needed to taste his.
He moulded his body to mine, pressing us together so there was not even a millimetre between us.