"Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny." — Lao-Tze
————————————————————

Chapter 9
<—————————————>

Maggie

"You missed a spot."

My fingers tightened around the broom so right, I worried it'd snap under my grip. I searched the space for the spot he claimed, but found nothing. "Where? I swept it all."

Luke, who had brought himself a chair and a desk to watch me suffer in, tilted some of the skittles in his hand. He tossed them back, then poured the remaining candy all over the ground.

He flicked his head, pointing to the floor. "Right there."

Oh sweet, sweet sanity.

I pressed my forehead to the broomstick, rehearsing the breathing exercises Jax taught me to control my anger. It was doing nothing to sustain me so far. It surely didn't help the other night.

"The fuck are you doing?"

"Breathing," I hissed through my teeth.

"What? Like meditating or some shit?"

Yeah, this wasn't working. I opened my eyes, attempting to look for the skittles he threw. "No, no, I'm air-bending," I replied, sarcastically. "What do you think?"

"Such a nasty little mouth on you, Norris."

"Really, now?" I murmured, mentally cursing the green skittle hiding under the bristles. "That's not what you said before."

He threw his legs on top of the table, crossing them at the ankles. "What? You want a reminder, or something?" At my hanging glare, he chuckled, "It was just a question, Norris. Most women like my cock down their throat."

"As if they could even feel that little carrot of yours. They'd probably think there was just a little itch in their throat."

Luke stared at me for a moment, pursing his lips. I thought he'd offer a retort but instead, his head fell back with rounds of laughter to follow. It was so deep, I felt it from the bottom of my toes.

Finally, his dark eyes went to me. "Oh, yeah?"

Finally, I caught the last skittle. I cast a quick glance back at him to catch him already watching me. "Yeah." It was getting harder by the minute to hold myself back from whacking him with the broom.

His lips tilted into a half-grin as he snaked a hand through his hair. "Yeah?" He chuckled at himself. I didn't know what was so funny, and I didn't care to know, either.

With a huff, I jerked around to face him. I wasn't going to argue, or entertain this prick for the next two years. Everyone who had had him knew how perfect he was in bed, but it was his attitude that would make me doubt it until my dying day.

"Look," I hissed at him. "Quit talking to me. Quit giving me that stupid smile, and quit making this harder than it has to be, okay?"

Again with that stupid fucking grin. "I'm simply making conversation with the chick who vandalized my place."

I rolled my eyes, crossing the space to grab the mop. I pulled at it, grumbling under my breath, "Well if you wouldn't have came to my job, and been a snarky asshole, then none of this would have happened, now would it?"

"What was that?" Luke dropped his feet from the table. "Don't be shy, Norris. Speak up."

"You want me to speak up?" I snapped, slamming the mop onto the wood. "I said that this shit is literally your fault."

"Oh, really?" he released a dry laugh at my accusation. "So, I made you come here, and destroy my shit? I dragged you here myself, and—"

My skin reddened. "You came to my job. You talked to my boss. You started a chain of events."

Luke's face scrunched with confusion at me. "Nah, nah. You're not about to put this on me, Norris. If you wouldn't have thought the worst—"

The mop fell right from my hands, clattering by our feet. "Thought? You've done nothing but show me the worst. What the hell else did you expect?"

Our tempers met toe for toe until there was nothing in the room other than their rollovers. I held my ground, ready to defend my own argument. Even if it was my fault, I wasn't apologizing for shit. He had set off a chain reaction with what he did, first.

Luke broke it first. "You know what?" His eyes ran over my figure, before raising back up to mine. "I don't have shit to prove to you, Maggie." With a shrug, he stood, popping his back. "You're right. You shouldn't expect shit from me, because I won't ever meet up to you little criteria—"

"I don't give two fucks about your villain origin story," I snapped. "You—"

"And, trust me when I say I couldn't care less about yours, either. But, if you would have just asked instead of assuming, then you wouldn't be here, right now. That's your fault in the end. Not mine."

My eyes shot daggers into his very soul for so long, they burned. He returned my look wholeheartedly, not lacking an ounce of hatred.

For a moment, I contemplated smacking him in the face with the mop to win the staring contest. If only he didn't have that security footage of me, though.

With a sigh, I pulled the mop back into my grasp. Silence began to build in the room, so tense that you couldn't even cut through it with a knife. It felt as if one of us were waiting for the other to beat their arrogance first, but it sure as hell wouldn't be me.

"How in the hell did you find out about this place, anyway?"

I kept my attention on the spray-painted dick along the floor. For a moment, I considered lying and proceeding on with silence, but hell, I was already here.

"I was visiting my grandmother in the hospital," I admitted under my breath.

Somehow, he had found another snack. "What's wrong with your grandmother?" He tossed an Oreo cookie in his mouth, nodding at me. "She dying, or something?"

My face lost any resemble of color. I'd never heard the words aloud, only in my head and even then, I tried to push them away. The possibility that my grandmother wouldn't be here with Jax and I within the next couple of months broke me down every single time. I felt the overwhelming pressure, and the grief of her absence before it was even here.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts up. As I had so many times, I thrust the tears back from anyone else's sight.

I couldn't cry about something I couldn't control, and I sure as hell couldn't cry about it in front of Luke. The shithead used everything to his advantage, and this would be the perfect opportunity to.

I kept my eyes to the ground, just in case the tears hadn't cleared up, yet. "When I was leaving, I heard your voice. You were talking a woman. All I heard was Langley street, and spray-painted cupcakes, and I went with it."

"So, I can add eavesdropping to the list, then?"

"What list?"

"The list of reasons why I hate you."

I cast a glance at him over my shoulder, but all I caught were his feet hanging over the desk.

"Yeah, well," I sighed. "The feelings mutual, pretty boy."

"Is that going to be my nickname, angel?" he threw back. "It sounds special."

I shrugged. "Trust me, it is. Out of asshole, asswipe, dipshit, angry bird, piece of roadkill—"

Luke chuckled from behind me. "You've thought of all of those, already?"

I didn't respond this time, instead turning to put the mop back in the water. I felt his eyes weighing on the side of my head.

Finally, I heard him ask, "What's wrong with your grandmother?"

I met his eyes, expecting to see a grin, or a scowl, or something else that wasn't there. He was serious, and if not that, then genuinely curious.

My shoulders fell with my eyes. "Cancer, stage three," I responded for some reason.

Luke looked taken aback for a moment, before he nodded in return. He threw another Oreo back, the silence stretching on. I assumed the conversation was over now, but he debunked it.

"Sorry," he said, clearing his throat before adding, "About your grandmother."

I expected a sike or some added sarcastic comment to follow, but none came. I waited a couple of more seconds, before I nodded in return as a thanks.

No else knew about our grandmother, other than Kimberly and Raven. Not even Xander or Quinn.

Luke went back to his phone, as he had been on this entire time. I relaid in the distraction, while my own question was building in the back of my head.

I knelt, grasping the sponge from the bucket. "That woman that I saw you with," I began. "Was she your sister? Grandma? Mom?"

"Didn't you tell me to stop talking?" he retorted.

I rolled my eyes, letting my hand remain in the bucket for a moment. I wanted to add that he had asked me a question, despite my demand, but didn't. He wasn't worth the argument that would surely follow.

"My mom," he replied so quietly, I nearly missed it. "Cancer, too. She's been in the center for years."

I glanced up, nearly shocked at his voice. And, not only that, his confession. For a moment, I wondered if he'd realized he told me. Me. But, I guessed it was fair, since I told him about my grandmother.

Even though his eyes were still on his phone, I could sense that he was still waiting for my response. His skin seemed to grow paler the longer I remained quiet.

Finally, I cleared my throat, "I'm sorry about your mother."

Luke said nothing, just rolled his lips, and leaned even further back into the chair. I returned the favor, focusing on scrubbing the glitter from the walls.

It was like a glitter bomb exploded all over the place. By the time I finished, I had cursed the very existence of my creative brain over and over again.

Glitter was falling from my fingernails, now, and it was probably stuck to every slab of open skin. I heard Luke's chair scrape back, but kept my attention on the wall instead of him.

When I heard the crinkle of a bag, I turned around.

My lunch bag was where I left it, on the desk. He was shuffling right through it, arm deep, like a raccoon.

Immediately, I stood, and wiped what I could off of my knees in order to march over to him. This prick. "Get out of there."

Luke rolled his eyes, still shifting through the bag. I reached for it in attempt to stop him, but he had a foot on me. With a half-grin, he lifted his arm into the air so high, it left me scratching at his skin.

I had to refrain from stomping my foot at his ignorance. "Give it to back, you idiot," I hissed.

"Nope." His head tipped up to the bag in concentration. "The fuck is in here, anyway?" He pulled his arm down, quickly yanking something out before I snatched the bag away from him. "Did you pack a bowling bowl or some shit?"

I recognized the container. They were the pinwheels Jax packed me. I tried to snatch them away from Luke, but he was too quick.

If I had any idea he'd eat it, I would have poisoned it.

With a huff, I threw my arms down to either side, grumbling, "It's the lunch my brother packed me."

"Your brother packs your lunch for you?" he repeated, snorting. "Isn't that kindergartener shit?"

I bit back my agitation. "No, it's 'my brother cares about me, and didn't want me to starve, because my boss is an ass' shit."

He lifted the top of the container, peeking inside. His eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Fair enough."

"I know you rich boys are used to your chefs cooking for you, but normal people actually have to cook for themselves." I smacked the top back down with much more force than necessary, then his hand until the skin turned red. "And, quit it. You're not eating my food."

His scowl built at me before he placed the container down entirely. I tried to reach for it, but he smacked my hand in return.

I yanked it back with a yelp. "The fuck was that for?"

"For pepper spraying me, hitting me in my damn jaw, kneeing me," he listed them off one by one. "And, whatever the hell else."

My lips parted to offer a defense, but I had nothing on that. "All I did was give you a new conversation starter. How you got your ass beat by a girl."

"I'll give it to you," he said, shrugging. "You can pack a punch, but don't get it confused. You didn't beat my ass, Norris."

I tightened the lid around my food, again. "Bliss is ignorance."

"Don't be silly."  He took a swig from his Gatorade, sitting back down. "Your punches are sloppy, at best."

"You want a reminder?"

"That's my line," he chuckled, leaning back. "It's pretty obvious that you haven't been trained professionally, though."

"And you have?" It was bullshit, since he technically had been trained for the past couple of years, but I would argue, anyway.

Luke eyed me, his grin building as he motioned around us. I followed his gaze, but found nothing of a hint.

I popped a brow at him. "Were those Oreos edibles or something?"

"This building," he mused, leaning against the wall. "What do you think it is?"

"A strip club," I responded without a second thought. "Wait, no a trap house. That seems like a better fit for you."

"I know that dirty mind of yours automatically resorts to shit like that, but no," he chuckled. "Take another guess."

I sighed, glancing around the space. There was nothing to help me figure it out; the place looked to be abandoned, and maybe even haunted, even before I trashed it.

I shook my head with a shrug. "Hell if I know, and hell if I care." I didn't care enough to try, and stretch my mind for this. I was simply here to clean my mess.

Luke sighed with an emphasis of annoyance. "It's going to be a Krav Maga type of thing."

My eyebrows shot up in shock. "Let me guess: you're going to be teaching teenage boys how to kick ass over stupid shit?" It did seem fitting for him.

Luke snorted, crossing his arms. "Sorry to break it to you, smart-ass, but no. It'll be a mix of sanctuary, and training." His expression grew serious, and for a moment, I saw his face tense with something. "It'll be open for all children, but mainly kids and teens who are being abused at home. I'll teach them how to defend themselves, they'll have a roof over their head if they need it, food and drinks, electricity and water, you know, shit like that."

I nearly fell over in shock at his confession. I wasn't kidding about the strip club, or the trap house. Out of all the things I expected this place to be, it definitely wasn't that.

I didn't realize I was gawking until I saw him roll his eyes. I swallowed past the shock to speak, but nothing came out.

His fingertips racked against the desk as he studied me over for a reaction. "No smart-ass response?"

I bit my lip to stop from meeting his wishes with that one. "Nope, none." Instead, I turned and proceeded on with my cleaning.

I let the silence build while I cleaned. I could feel his eyes on the back of my head, burning so deep, it was a wonder I didn't have a hole in it by now.

"No smart-ass comment," I finally admitted, my gaze stuck on the wall. "I just...didn't expect that answer." That was my only form, the only closest thing he'd ever get to good idea.

Seconds passed in silence. When I didn't receive a response, I jerked around. As soon as I did, I caught him peeling the top of my lunch back, reaching in, and popping one of the pinwheels in his mouth. Not even a moment later, he was grabbing another.

I groaned, planting my head against the wall. This was going to be two long, long years.