Beard Up(25)

The alarm by the door immediately started to beep, and I typed in a code to turn it off.

"How did you know the code?" Sienna asked as she pushed past me.

"Silas gave that to me along with the keys," I answered, not willing to admit that the code was another number that was heart stoppingly familiar.

The anniversary of when Tunnel and I met. It was just four numbers, but those four numbers, 0804, would be forever etched in my brain.

Though it was a coincidence, I didn't wish to examine it any further because it made my heart hurt, so I walked into the living space and stared.

"This house is tiny," Sienna murmured.

I looked around at the sparse house. It wasn't bad. She was right, though. It was sort of small. But since it was only her and me, it would be just fine. Especially since it had three bedrooms.

Sienna walked down the hall to explore, and I walked over to the countertops.

They are lovely, I thought, as I ran my hand over them.

A memory assaulted me, too fast for me to brace for it.

"Babe," Tunnel said, standing in the middle of the cabinet department at Home Depot. "This is your domain, not mine. If you want black fuckin' countertops, we'll get you black fuckin' countertops."

My mouth dropped open. "Tunnel Angelo Morrison! You did not just say that to me."

My man grinned, and acted like he hadn't just committed the biggest faux pas any man could commit.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Minnie. I was just telling you to get what you want, that's all." He held up his hands.

I continued to glare, even though I really wanted to laugh instead.

This man of mine, he didn't care if what he said was considered ‘politically correct.' All he cared about was getting his point across.

And I cared that Tunnel was my man. I didn't care that he could be crass and so bluntly honest sometimes that he often came off as an asshole. This man of mine just didn't sugar-coat things, and frankly, I was glad that he didn't.

It was important to me that one always be truthful, even if it would hurt less to lie.

Such as right now. 

"Tunnel, you're so freakin' annoying," I told him. "Sometimes, I just want to take you to the back of the store and knock some sense into you with my fists."

He looked at said fists.

"Minnie, you can't even kill a fly with a fuckin' fly swatter," he told me. "How the fuck do you think you're going to knock around a man who is twice your size and knows how to take a punch?"

I wouldn't let my mind hang on to the fact that he knew how to take a punch. He was a police officer. He was, indeed, trained to take a punch, but that wasn't where he learned to take one.

No, he learned to take one from his old man who took delight in beating the shit out of him. When it came down to it, Tunnel would willingly submit to a beating as long as his sister wasn't touched.

"Can I help you both with anything?"

That came from a timid young woman decked out in jeans, boots, and a bright orange Home Depot vest.

"Yes," I said, letting my hands smooth down lazily along my hips as not to reach out and show my husband what I could do with my fist. "I want to get these black quartz countertops with the blue flecks in them. How do we go about doing that?"

"Thank fuckin' Christ," Tunnel muttered under his breath.

I glared at the man, and he shut up, but his lips continued to twitch as he tried to hold his smile away.

"I can help you with that," the woman muttered.

"Well, let's fuckin' hope so, honey. You do work here."

I looked at the ceiling. "Tunnel, don't make me come over there."

"Come on over, baby. I'd love for you to show me what you're workin' with."

"Mom!" Sienna screeched. "Come look at this room!"

I looked away from the black countertops. The same black countertops that I'd chosen for my own house, but I had never gotten because Tunnel had passed the next week.

"Coming!" I called out, my heart in my throat at the memory.

God, I miss you, Tun.

Sienna was out in the hallway jumping up and down on the tips of her toes. "Hurry!"

Then she walked into the bedroom that I assumed would be hers, and squealed. "It has a princess bed, Mom!"

My heart clenched.

"It does?" I was surprised.

"And games and toys, oh look! A doll like the one Daddy bought me!"

I looked at the doll she was holding up in her hands. It was an American Girl doll, and one of the only things I was ever able to keep nice since Sienna was rough on all of her toys.

But that had been out of necessity on my part. I wanted her to have something from her father that she could look at in twenty years and not be embarrassed to show it to anyone.

"It's beautiful, baby," I murmured quietly. "You'll have to thank them for their generosity."