“I can tell,” she said. “Feels like we’ve been walking forever. How do you even know which door is yours?”
I pointed at the ground. “There’s paint on the ground. Some of the guys have their doors decorated by their wives or kids. Plus, I’m the twentieth door down on the right.”
“Jesus,” she murmured. “Is that at the end?”
“Almost. There’s a big ass bathroom beyond my door that used to be a locker room. Now it’s just got extra toilets and showers in case anyone needs it.”
“Is there a boys’ and a girls’?”
“If you go into the individual bathrooms off the rooms, you have privacy. But the locker room is free for anyone. That’s where all the guests go.” He came to a door and pressed his thumb to it.
“Lock on the door?” she asked.
“I don’t like finding random people in my room fucking,” I said. “They’d never done it, but sometimes when the guys get drunk, this hallway’s pretty damn long, and they might just go into any room. It’s happened to others. But I didn’t want to be one of them. I have trust issues.”
I liked my space just like that—my own.
I was pretty particular about who went in and out of my room.
Some of the others had locks, but not all.
I didn’t have that kind of trusting mindset, and probably never would.
Not just because of all the shit I had to deal with during prison, but also thanks to the life I’d led before.
People, even family and friends, would always disappoint you.
Though I was slowly starting to figure out that the Dixie Wardens MC brothers weren’t anything like what I’d thought they would be.
I was still learning, but every day they came through for me, whether small or big.
Maybe one day I’d be able to trust them fully.
But not yet.
“The code is 4518,” I said.
Her hand went to my arm. “Dean’s birthday.”
“Dean’s birthday,” I confirmed, a sense of loss hitting me at the mention of his name. “He’d be seven today.”
“I know,” she said softly, squeezing my arm. “He would’ve been just like you.”
She pressed her finger to the dent in my chin and smiled.
“The one in Dean’s chin was cute as fuck.” I chuckled as I dropped her clothes to the bed. “The bathroom is through there.”
She picked up her clothes and then held her hand out to me.
“Oh.” I grinned and pulled out her panties, dangling them in front of her.
Her cheeks flushed. “Of course you would bring the smallest pair I own.”
“It’s not my fault,” I said. “I just picked the ones that were the cutest.”
“And the smallest,” she snorted and toed off her tennis shoes.
I eyed the shoes. “I brought you shoes, too. They’re still in the truck, though.”