Page 93 of His Greatest Muse
“It looks great, LeeLee,” Adalyn praises.
I wince at the nickname.
“Thank you for teaching me.” Pride is thick in Paisley’s voice.
A hand runs a gentle route over my head before Tinsley says, “I don’t think Noah’s hair has ever looked better.”
“You should grow it out forever. Like Rapunzel,” Paisley says.
I reluctantly release Tinsley’s ankle and stand, my ass aching. “No.”
Paisley follows me, narrowing her eyes. “Is there something wrong with Rapunzel?”
“What?”
“You don’t want to have hair like her. Why?”
Is she serious? Standing behind the girl, Tinsley sucks her lips in to keep from laughing. This child is fucking weird. Maybe I shouldn’t have given her my bedroom after all.
“I don’t like her hair,” I answer her stiffly.
She gasps. “You should have to put a million dollars in the swear jar.”
“What did I tell you about forcing people to like everything you do, Paisley?” Justice asks, the words shuddered with the weight of a hidden laugh.
I glare at him. He’s enjoying this. They all are.
“When I was a little girl, Noah cut all the hair off of my Barbie dolls. He just doesn’t like blondes, sweetheart. It has nothing to do with Rapunzel. She’s my favourite too,” Adalyn steps in.
“You’re making me sound like a serial killer,” I snap, exasperated. “I cut all their hair off because you told Tinsley I had an STD when I was twelve.”
Tinsley claps her hands. “Oh, right! I remember that.”
“I did not! I was an angel child.” Adalyn swirls a finger over her head.
“What’s an STD?” Paisley asks.
Nobody answers. Justice groans and sets a hand on her head before starting to push her away from us, toward the hallway. Looking at us over his shoulder, he flips us his middle finger and tells his daughter, “It’s a grown-up word. Now it’s time for bed.”
“Then why does Noah get to use it?” she retorts, and the girls burst into fits of laughter, calling goodbye to their new favourite fucking person.
I feel the corner of my mouth twitch before I force it to stop. That kid is too much. Her personality is too big for this bus. Justice shouldn’t have to raise her here.
“I’m going to bed.” I give Tinsley a pointed look. She arches her brow in response, speaking to Adalyn about something I don’t care about.
She better be in bed with me by the time I’ve gotten comfortable in that godforsaken bunk. It’s just tall enough for me to be able to hover above her and wide enough she can fit beside me. If it were any smaller, I would have burned the bus to the ground and demanded another with more room.
“Goodnight, Noah,” Addie calls as I stalk down the hallway.
“Have a good sleep on the couch,” I reply, tone snipped.
I shove open the bathroom door and step inside. My expression sours further at the state of my hair. It’s split down the middle into two crooked braids. I look ridiculous.
The dark circles beneath my eyes don’t help my appearance. I’ve always had them, but they’re worse somehow. It’s the late nights and early mornings. The stress and lack of answers in the recent days.
I run the tap and lean toward the sink. Cupping the cold water in my palms, I splash it on my face and close my eyes. My mind is so loud today. It goes beyond the braiding lessons. Far beyond.
I want to know more about the man watching Tinsley. It’s been three days of nothing. Of silence and waiting. But I know he’s out there. Maybe he’s following the bus right now as we pin down the interstate. I clench the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. Discoloured blue eyes flash back at me instead of familiar brown ones. The same ones I see in my nightmares, bright with the promise to take her from me. I’m on edge, looking for a fight with anyone over anything.