Page 85 of Halo

I brighten with a smile, my perfected survival skill honed from a guided cage. “Of course.”

Because I don't know what's best for myself.

Angus greets me with messy kisses when I finally get home. We spend a few minutes snuggled on the front doormat before heading out for a quick walk around the neighborhood. By the time I shower off the day, my body feels clean, but my mind is anything but.

I wish I had someone to talk to about all of this. Someone who could sit in the mess with me instead of trying to tidy it up with a Bible verse or a sermon.

Maybe a tall handsome blond.

With full lips.

And really, really strong arms.

My phone lights up.

A jolt of excitement blooms in my belly as I click to open the next text message.

‘Reminder that your prescription is ready.’

Seriously? Flopping back on my couch, I cover my face with a pillow and groan.

Stupid heart.

Chapter 21

Leah

If I’m going to forget an ingredient, it’s always during a holiday where I’m supposed to provide a dish. Give me a brand-new recipe with twenty-two ingredients on a random Tuesday in April, and I’ll nail it without breaking a sweat. Ask me to make the same pumpkin pie I’ve helped bake every Thanksgiving since I was old enough to hold a measuring spoon, and suddenly the nutmeg has vanished from the face of the earth.

After cycling through the five stages of cooking grief, including bargaining with Google for a nutmeg substitute, I’m now standing in the middle of a war zone—also known as my H-E-B.

It doesn’t help that my period started this morning. The cramps have settled in for the day, and my favorite leggings stopped being comfortable about twenty minutes ago.

Every checkout lane is open, and likes still snake halfway to the dairy section. I weave through a grid-lock of shopping carts, piled high with frozen turkeys, canned pumpkin, and Texas-grown sweet potatoes, trying to find an express lane.

“Leah!”

I spin around to find Julian Santiago waving me over from the checkout line.

“Hey! It’s good to—“

“There you are, sweetheart.” He winks, gesturing dramatically to the nutmeg in my hand. “I was beginning to think you’d never find it.”

It takes me exactly one second to realize what he’s doing as I slip into line ahead of him. “Thank you,” I whisper. “What are your plans for …?”

My words fall away as I do a double-take at Julian’s shopping cart. It’s overflowing with lice shampoo, combs, sprays, and enough laundry detergent to decontaminate the whole city of Houston.

“Oh no.” I take a cautious step back. “Who has it?”

He lets out a long, defeated sigh. “Vera and Birdie.” He rubs both hands over his face. “Piojos. Por todas partes.” His shoulders sag. “Chelsea has been washing everything we own since six this morning. Mamá canceled Thanksgiving because she refuses to spend the holiday nitpicking her granddaughters.“ He winces. “She’s literally lighting candles for us.”

I instinctively take another step backward.

His narrows his gaze. “Really?”

“I’m sorry,” I laugh. “But I’m going to need you to respect my personal space.”

“I’m not a leper, Leah.”