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“We need a better plan than that, Nova. We can’t do it your way forever,” Silas says.
I shrug quickly, glancing outside and idly wondering what Evangeline is doing in the garage. “Call a meeting, Silas, and come up with something else.”
Silence falls over the room, but it’s not oppressive or demanding.
Bane clears his throat and locks eyes with Silas. “It’s not the worst idea he’s ever had. And I think it’ll be good for Evangeline to see him.”
Silas drags his hand across the back of his neck, indecision warring with his need to protect his son clear on his face. “You’re asking me to trust you with my son’s life. With her life.”
It’s not an accusation or dripping in indignation. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m seeing my brother. Not the gruff persona he wraps around himself like a light-tight shelter. Or the reluctant president of the Reapers. Or the overbearing older brother who has a penchant for getting his way.
The man before me is vulnerable, tentative and unsure in a way I’m not sure he’s ever been before.
“God damn, she’s fucking magic,” I murmur on a gasp. I’d bet my life that this change is because of whatever went down in this kitchen last night. I clear my throat and set my coffee mug down, giving him my full attention. “I’ll make sure they’re safe, Silas. And I’ll protect them with my life. You have my word.”
Silas nods slowly, his brow pinched with concern. “Two hours, yeah? I don’t want to push our luck.”
“Three hours. Let ’em watch a movie and bake something together.”
Silas narrows his gaze at me. “Did you already talk to her about it?”
My mouth curves into a sly grin. “Nah, I’m gonna surprise her. But Ma and I might have already talked about it. Don’t worry, brother, she didn’t mention it to Hunter yet.”
“You’re an asshole sometimes, you know that?” Silas grumbles, but it lacks any real frustration.
I lift a shoulder and lean back against the counter. “Learned from the best, big brother.”
Silas nods, his gaze faraway as he murmurs, “I’m trusting you, Asher. Don’t make me regret it.”
31
EVANGELINE
“Jesus, Eve. I can’t believe you went through all of that. It sounds like the kind of shit you see in a movie. That stuff isn’t supposed to happen in real life,” Cora says.
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, leaning back in a lawn chair.
We’re sitting in the middle of the closed garage. Cora came over to help me go through Nana Jo’s things in the garage, but as soon as she saw me, she burst into tears. And then I burst into tears. And soon enough, we were a weepy, tangled mess of hugging and crying and declarations of love. But eventually, we dusted off the backs of our jean shorts and got off the concrete floor.
I snagged two of the crocheted lawn chairs hanging on hooks on the far wall of the garage. Nana Jo had these for as long as I can remember. I wouldn’t be surprised if she either made them or picked them up from someone in town at one of the festivals. They’re crocheted in a colorful abstract sort of pattern. It kind of reminds me of one of her favorite artists. If the artist’s medium was yarn and not oil paints.
At one point, Cora even dug out a couple of glass bottles of soda from the outdoor refrigerator. I’d kind of forgotten there was anything in there honestly. Outside of the past few days, I’d spent the last month at Silas’s house.
“Is there a reason we’re still outside? Hiding from one of your boyfriends?” She sing-songs the word boyfriends and scrunches her face into a silly expression.
“Yeah, you’re supposed to be helping me go through everything in here, remember?” I lean my head back, letting my gaze coast to the ceiling with a small laugh. Nana Jo’s garage has exposed rafters for storage, not that there’s anything up there anymore. But I vaguely remember Grandpa Dalton storing a kayak up there when we were younger.
She tsks. “I thought that was a ruse in case one of your boyfriends was nearby or something.”
I roll my head toward her, arching a brow. “Do you think I need permission from my men for my best friend to come to my house?”
Pink dusts the tops of her cheekbones, and the side of her mouth hooks into a smirk. “Well when you put it like that.” She toys with the label on her Coke, the paper shredding all too easily now that it’s wet. It’s hot as hell here in the summers, but the garage is cool enough if we keep the door closed. “How is that working out by the way?”
“How’s what working out?”
She waves the glass bottle casually in the air. “You know, the three dicks.”
I laugh, this surprised sort of barking noise that has her smirk blossoming into a full-blown grin. “If you ask me about their dick sizes one more time, I’m going to go tell Silas about it.”
