After a while, her head rests against my shoulder and her breathing evens out. I stay awake. I memorize the weight of her against me, the way her hand loosens in mine as she falls asleep, because I've already decided what I have to do, and she won't be this close again.
Chapter 11
Ellie
Knox made the call this morning. Bruiser's said the scoutsare east of the county line, pulling back. Patrols continue but the deadbolts come off. Families can move and we no longer need to be in lockdown. We can go back to our homes later today.
Colt hasn't come out of the office since breakfast.
He ate standing up—toast, black coffee, no eye contact. Asked Lily if she slept okay, kissed the top of her head, and disappeared down the hallway. The office door closed behind him and hasn't opened in two hours. I'm on my second cup of coffee at the kitchen table, listening and telling myself it doesn't mean anything.
Lily turns the page and wrinkles her nose.
She's cross-legged on the clubhouse couch with a paperback from my car, the one I keep in the glovebox for oil changes and dentist appointments. She picked it up an hour ago without asking, cracked the spine open, and hasn't looked up since. She reads the way Colt reads. I wonder if she knows she does that.
Lily wrinkles her nose again.
"That bad?" I ask.
"She's going back to him." Lily holds the book up. "The guy lied to her for three chapters. Why is she going back?"
"Because it's chapter seven and the author needs them together for the plot to work."
"That's lazy writing."
I take a sip of coffee to hide the laugh. "It really is."
She puts the book face-down on her knee and looks at me. "Do you have anything where the girl doesn't forgive the guy?"
"I have a shelf at the library. Whole section of women choosing themselves."
"Can we go?"
"When your dad says it's safe."
"You organize the graphic novels wrong, by the way."
I set my coffee down. "Excuse me?"
"They should be in fiction. Not in their own section. Nobody walks to a separate section for graphic novels."
I've organized graphic novels in a standalone section since I got here. She's twelve and she might be right. "I'll think about it."
"I'm right."
She picks the book back up. Keeps reading it, even though she doesn't like it, because she'll finish what she started even if it annoys her. After a few pages she shifts on the couch, resettling, and her shoulder presses against mine. She doesn't move away. Neither do I.
Finn comes through the kitchen doorway carrying a plate with something on it that might be eggs.
"Lil." He sets the plate on the coffee table. "Made you breakfast."
Lily looks at the plate and then looks at Finn. "What is it?"
"Eggs."
"Why are they grey?"
Finn crosses his arms. "They're not grey. They're... lightly seasoned."
