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“Oh!” Amelia clapped. “She found it.”
My brows rose.
“She found what?” I asked curiously.
“The lunch sack that I asked for.” Amelia snickered. “I told her we needed a cuter one to pass off our drugs in. She said she’d find one that I’d like. I’m pretty sure this is the exact one I pointed out to her on the cover of a magazine last month.”
“It is,” Silas muttered as he walked the bag to the fridge. “Check your blood sugar.”
Amelia rolled her eyes but went about doing what her father ordered.
We all sipped our coffee and watched her go about testing her blood sugar, starting with a prick of her finger, moving to place that drop of blood on the strip that was connected to the glucose monitor.
It was only as the number popped up, which I knew to be within range, that she tossed it into the trash and wiped her finger on my shirt.
My lips twitched.
“I was going to wear that today,” I pointed out. “It’s my only clean shirt.”
“You’re joking… right?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
I shook my head. “I have other shirts. I just don’t like wearing them. They have to be soft and…”
“And no tags. Not too tight around the collar. Hem can’t have a scratchy thread.” Sam chuckled then, bringing my attention to him. “Do you know how fucking hard it is to find a shirt for this kid?”
“I have a sensory issue,” I admitted when Amelia’s eyes turned to me. “Do you know how god-awful it was to put on an Air Force dress uniform? I thought I was going to die every time I wore it.” I paused when I remembered the first time I put it on. “Luckily, Kilgore Police Department allows me to wear a polo and tactical pants. Both of which I can buy on my own, or that’d be a disaster, too.”
“I think I remember something about you losing your shit on a family vacation once,” Silas said. “Your sister Catori and you were at the airport, and she thought it would be fun to switch luggage for a little while. She was trying to play a joke on you, but it backfired. The airline ended up losing both of y’all’s luggage after you boarded the plane for Disney. When y’all got there, you didn’t have any clothes, and you both had to buy some. And you stayed in a state of anger the entire time you were there because you couldn’t stand the scratchy clothes.”
“I’m pretty sure he was fifteen.” Sam chuckled.
“For the record,” I said, “the clothes there are scratchy. The only thing I managed to find that wasn’t irritating as hell was a t-shirt with Nemo on it. I still have it. It’s in the dirty clothes that my mother came over and picked up to wash.”
“Your mother washes your clothes?” Amelia asked, bringing her coffee cup away from her face to stare at me.
I shrugged. “When she saw how much I was spending on dry cleaning, yes. But, I don’t like the way shit smells, so I have to have it done by someone that knows how to do it and what I like. I.e., my mom or a drycleaner. I pay her, though. In donuts.”
Amelia snorted and took another drink of her coffee.
Silas put his elbows on the edge of the bar and stared between the two of us.
“We will discuss the two of you and y’all’s recent sleepovers in just a bit.” He paused. “Now, let’s talk about the fire.”
We did, ending with where she would be staying.
“You’re coming home,” Silas said. “You don’t have a job anymore. There’s no reason you can’t.”
“There’s no reason that I should, either,” she pointed out. “Rogan Germain has fans everywhere, Dad. They’re not just limited to Kilgore. And I don’t want you to have to kill anyone in your hometown.”
She had a good point.
The doctored clip of her punching Rogan had made its rounds over the internet and by now, everyone with a social media account had seen the clip.
There would be no hiding from this when it came to Amelia.
Sadly.
“Adam offered for me to stay here,” Amelia said softly. “And I’d really, really like to do that. At least for a little while.”
Forever.
Silas’ brows rose at that.
Not because of his daughter’s words, but because, I’m sure, he was a fuckin’ mind reader.
Was there anything Silas Mackenzie couldn’t do?
Jesus Christ, I was going to marry the daughter of the real world’s Chuck Norris.
The man really was that badass—Silas Mackenzie. Chuck Norris really wouldn’t know what hit him.
“Adam.” Silas stood. “You want to come talk to me outside?”
Not really.
“Sure.” I picked up my coffee, got a refresh, then headed out to the front porch with him.
The moment we were out there, I tugged the door closed behind me, but not before looking back over my shoulder and seeing Amelia’s pleading face staring back at me.
