Page 63 of Code Violation

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Vesper

“Ves, get the door.”

My ass had just touched the couch after a full day of cleaning up the mess Kane had made of our apartment. I’d worked back-to-back twelve-hour shifts at Riley’s because he was, once again, out of work and we needed money to make the rent this month.

“Can’t you get it?” I asked, wincing at the building headache behind my eyes when I yelled back to wherever Kane was located in our small one-bedroom apartment.

It was a nice place—when it was clean—and pretty spacious since it was a converted first floor in a large property. We also had the benefit of a small backyard, which we shared with our neighbor who lived above us. The entrance to his place was around the back of the property, so we had relative privacy. Just as well because my boyfriend’s behavior had been growing increasingly volatile.

Kane’s temper flared whenever he drank, and it felt like he was drunk most of the day. I’d lost count of the number of beer bottles I’d collected around the apartment—some even hidden at the back of our closet when I vacuumed in there earlier. I had wanted to yell at him to clean up his own goddamn trash, but being honest, he was starting to scare me, and all I wanted was to keep the peace. At some point, I knew things would get back to the way they had been when we first met. At least, that was what I told myself. We were going through a rough patch, like all couples did.

“I’m having a smoke. You get it.”

It wasn’t worth arguing, so I rolled my eyes and peeled myself off the couch, my feet protesting the few steps to the door. I’d only just gotten the bar manager job at Riley’s, and I’d worked my ass off these past two days, determined to make a good first impression.

Still, despite Kane’s shitty mood, I secretly prayed that he’d ordered a pizza and there was a guy standing on the porch with a large Italian base from my favorite takeout place, complete with extra jalapeños.

“Hi.”

Hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants, black ball cap pulled down low over his eyes, Silas was dressed in full training gear and had clearly driven straight here from the rink.

He dropped his eyes to my battered black sneakers, the ones I’d been wearing nonstop for the past forty-eight hours.

I braced a hand on the edge of the door and smiled flatly. I was too tired to offer anything more enthusiastic.

As I opened my mouth to shout for Kane, Silas held up a hand, halting me.

“I actually stopped by to see you.” He didn’t need to rise onto his tiptoes or crane his neck around my shoulder to see down the hallway since he towered over my petite frame. “Have you got a second?” He thumbed behind him to his black truck, which was parked along the sidewalk.

I chewed on my bottom lip, really wishing we could have this conversation on the couch. The soles on my feet were burning.

“How can I help you?” My response was as warm as the smile I’d just offered.

“I wanted to ask how things at Riley’s were going. We didn’t get a chance to talk when I saw you the other night.”

“Shifts at Riley’s are manic.” I shrugged and stepped over the threshold, closing the front door behind me.

It was early fall, and Seattle was fucking cold. I shivered in my thin white top and black leggings.

“My truck is running to keep warm,” Silas remarked, tipping his chin to where it was parked.

I shook my head, hugged my middle, and refused his training top when he unzipped it and held it out for me.

“Why don’t you come inside?” I offered through chattering teeth.

At least the place was clean, and he wouldn’t witness the chaos I had come back to late last night.

Silas narrowed his eyes on me.

It had been at least two weeks since we’d last seen each other, and that was a movie night spent in near silence. He’d come by for food, like he usually did twice a month, but on this particular visit, he and Kane got into it when I was clearing away the plates. Kane wanted Silas to watch a football game, and he refused, suggesting that they both help me with the dishes.

I couldn’t make out the whole conversation from the kitchen, but I didn’t miss Kane’s scathing comment about a woman’s place being in front of the sink. My heart sank at that moment, and I hung my head between my shoulders just as Silas stormed into the kitchen to witness my breakdown.

Right there and then, he asked me to leave and offered to put me up in a hotel until I could find a place of my own.

I hadn’t wanted to accept because I was too stubborn, but I could’ve at least been grateful and not told him to, “Stay out of our business.”