Recovery by Nicole Dykes (best time to read books .txt) 📗

“Pretty sure I saw your drool on the floor out there, asshole.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Let’s go to the bar. Blow off some steam.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, and I know he’s not really that into her. I know my best friend well, and she’d just be a plaything to him till he got bored.

He won’t fight me for her.

Good.

I wake up the next morning, still tired. Still numb. I’m starting to think this is just how my life is going to be from now on—haunting nightmares, sickening abyss, not caring, not awake even when my eyes are open, just floating through life and hating everything.

I climb out of the bed that was surprisingly comfortable and stretch my arms to the sky. I’m only wearing a thin t-shirt, but it’s large and goes almost to my knees. After ducking into the bathroom, I slowly make my way toward the kitchen area of the loft, praying they have coffee.

I hear booming male voices before I reach them and see four men all crowded in the kitchen. Jase is the first I see, and he’s dressed today, wearing tight black jeans that have holes in them with a gray hoodie that clings to his body.

A body I’ve already seen far too much of and shamelessly checked out almost every inch of. I blame the exhaustion and grief.

Finn turns to me, his dark blue eyes shining as he nods to me. “Ah, our new roommate’s up! Fucking finally. You think I was going to make breakfast for just these fuckers?”

I notice he has a spatula in his hand and is, in fact, making eggs in the frying pan on the stove. “I really just need coffee,” I say, and I know it’s rude. I know they want to be friendly, but I just want to be invisible.

“Coffee is much better than the shitty eggs Finn makes,” one of the two men I haven’t yet met says as he walks to the coffee pot and pours a cup before handing it to me. “I’m Tommy.”

I stare at him, and then my eyes go to the man sitting at the island bar in the kitchen. That must be his husband, James, and I wasn’t fucking kidding about what they feed them down here. All four men are massive and tattooed. James is Black like me with his hair trimmed short and a bright white smile.

Tommy is Hispanic, I think. He has the same rich bronze tone my friend Veronica has.

All four of them are broad and thick with muscle. All gorgeous, with bright, shiny smiles and tattoos. If I was a normal girl, I'd be in heaven right now.

“I’m Mya. I . . .” I look around again and then back to Tommy. I take the coffee mug from him. “I won’t be here long.”

He just smiles at that, shaking his head and taking a seat next to his husband. “Yeah. I said that too.”

James looks to me. “Yeah. I think we all thought we wouldn’t be here long.” He looks over at Jase and Finn who are on the other side of the island. “But they aren’t so bad.”

Jase raises his middle finger, and I see it too is tattooed. “Fuck off, we’re great.” His voice is deep and smooth. And his eyes are a beautiful hazel color. I notice this as they lock on me. “You sleep okay?”

I nod my head, taking a drink of coffee. He seems a little different today. Less playful. Less flirty. I'm not sure I like it. He’s looking at me like a wounded bird, someone who needs to be treated with care.

“Fine.”

Finn fills a plate with eggs and bacon and places it on the bar. “Eat.”

It’s an order. I haven’t been told what to do for a long time. As if he knows it’s a mistake to boss me around, Jase leans his ass back against the counter, hot mug of coffee in his hands which he brings up to his mouth with a smirk, still eyeing me.

“No thanks,” I say, holding up the coffee. “I just need a caffeine fix.”

“You start work with me today,” Tommy says, sliding the plate closer to the edge toward me. “Eat and then I'll show you the ropes.”

Are they for real?

“No. Thanks.” I look at Tommy, assuming he must work at the bar. “I’m going to get ready, and then I'll be there.”

Finn places a hand over his heart like he did last night, like he’s wounded. “I slaved over the stove for you and you aren’t even going to take a bite?”

“Don’t do it,” James coughs into his hand. They all laugh and joke around. I sneak out, going to the bathroom to take a shower. When I turn off the water, I grab a fresh towel from the linen closet in the bathroom, surprised that four men have managed to do laundry themselves. But this place is fairly tidy.

I wrap the towel around myself, tucking the corner of it between my breasts and looking outside the door before darting into my room and getting dressed.

When I’m finished getting ready, I walk out toward the living room and kitchen. I only see Jase now. The place is empty and quiet, his large body sitting comfortably in a chair in the living room with a plate in front of him on the coffee table.

“You can eat now. No one else is here.”

I huff, annoyed, and my brows press together. “You think I care about people watching me eat?”

His large shoulders shrug in indifference. “I know you didn’t want to eat, but you have to be starving.” His hazel eyes lift up to look at mine. “We live together. We’ll probably be sharing some meals.”

“No. We won’t.”

“Is that so?” His tone is light, playful, but his voice is gravely and sexy. I hate it. Because I don’t.

“Yes. I’m not here for some fun, little sitcom-type comedy. I’m here to earn money and get the hell out.”

“Out of what?”

I freeze, not