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A smile of genuine respect flickers over Jackson’s lips but he doesn’t interrupt.
“His pantry was stocked for Armageddon or something. He had, like, a million cans of soup.” She shudders. “I hate soup. Then he got mad when he gave me some creamy tomato glop and I told him I’m allergic to tomatoes.”
I raise an eyebrow. Seems like something I should know about my girlfriend so I don’t…oh, I don’t know, accidentally poison her one day. With this new information, what I always thought was her being picky or doing that female watch-your-weight thing takes on a different light. I make a mental note to ask her about it later.
“Did you eat the soup?” Jackson asks.
“Heck no. He got a burr in his saddle over it, but made me chicken noodle instead.”
Jackson frowns. Aw, does the big, smartass agent need help interpreting Shelby’s little southernism? “So he fed you. Gave you something to drink.”
Shelby pins him with a hard stare. “I didn’t feel like I could leave. You know, after he drugged me and abducted me. So don’t go acting like this was a lunch date, sir.”
Jackson holds up his hand. “Not at all, Ms. Morgan.”
Obviously, Shelby doesn’t trust him. She waits, watching the agent carefully but not saying a word.
I couldn’t be prouder of my girl.
SHELBY
How many more times am I going to have to go through this story? Reliving all the details isn’t helping at all.
Finally, after what feels like days, Agent Jackson seems satisfied.
“Thank you, Ms. Morgan. We have Mr. Suggs in custody and I’m doing what I can to make sure he doesn’t post bail. If for some reason he does, I’ll be in touch.”
I’m not sure if that’s ordinary procedure or not, but I thank him. Nothing in my life has been ordinary lately.
After the agents leave, I fall back against my pillows. “That’s it. I can’t tell this story to one more flippin’ person.”
Rooster pulls his chair closer and takes my hand. “I hope that’s it for now.”
“I want him…punished…but good God, I cannot keep reliving it constantly.” Even as I say it, I know how unlikely it is. There will be a trial and who knows what else in the future. Suggs is still influencing and controlling my life, even from afar.
Rooster shifts. An unreadable expression darkens his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He forces a smile. “Your mom’s been downstairs for a while. With Jigsaw. God only know what’s going on there.”
The very idea unleashes a wild torrent of laughter. “He better buckle up.”
“Hey.” A more serious expression settles over him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re allergic to tomatoes?”
I blink. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t like talking about it.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to end up making you sick or something one day.”
“Rooster, I know how to look out for myself.”
“I know you do.”
Expectation stretches through the air between us. Damn, I don’t feel like talking about this now. “It’s not like a nut allergy,” I begin, picking my words carefully. “I won’t die…well, I guess I could. It’s been a while. I hate talking about it because some asshole always thinks I’m making it up or being dramatic, then tries to ‘prove’ I’m not really allergic by slipping one in my food.”
“What? That’s sick.” Shock widens his eyes. “Who the fuck does something like that?”
“Well, my grandma, for one. She was a crazy old biddy, though.” My throat itches just remembering the couple times she’d tricked me into eating something I shouldn’t. “Almost killed Hayley when she was little by feeding her peanuts too.” I adopt my grandma’s haughty Texan twang. “In my day, we didn’t coddle youngins. The kids ate what they were given and were thankful.”
“That’s fucked up.”
I shrug. “Momma refused to leave us alone with her after the incident with Hayley. She and my dad fought about it a lot. He had a hard time telling his momma ‘no’ and my momma was pretty relentless when it came to protecting her kids.”
He snorts and sort of nods.
“Anyway, Grandma Morgan died not long after. Problem solved.” Maybe I should feel worse talking about my grandmother’s death so casually, but the woman tried to kill me twice, so I can’t get too worked up about her demise.
“Still wish you’d told me. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” He runs his hand over his chin and down his beard. “None of my brothers would ever pull a stunt like that and if they tried, I’d fuckin’ gut ’em.”
“I trust you.” I shrug. “It hadn’t really come up yet or I would’ve mentioned it.”
One corner of his mouth hikes up. “How the heck do you avoid tomatoes in Texas with all that salsa floatin’ around?”
“It’s not easy.” I let out a yawn.
“Why don’t you get some rest.” He pats the bed. “People have been at you all day.”
