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Delara choked on her wine and it sprayed from her mouth. “Kilter? Haven’t really looked at his ass, considering I’m always watching for his fists coming my way.”
Danni giggled then proceeded to refill her wineglass. “Off-Kilter threw me in the shower with my pajamas on to get me to snap out of a bad funk. I was so pissed, but he helped me through a really rough time. He’s just a little—overwhelming.”
“A little?” Delara snorted. “The guy is a runaway train. And he doesn’t trust anyone.”
“He saved my life, and well, he was nice to me,” I said. Both women had their eyes on me. “We got along in an odd sort of way. I don’t know. I trusted him. Kind of. He just helped, I guess.” God, I was babbling and stumbling over my words. Maybe because every time I thought of him my emotions were all screwed up.
Danni raised her glass. “Cheers to hot asses.”
We clinked glasses. No one mentioned what I’d tried to say about Kilter, which was a good thing.
He was a Scar and he hadn’t once tried to contact me or see me.
But that hadn’t stopped me from missing him every single day for six months.
