Page 147 of Slapshot Baby

"I'm not going anywhere."

Her breathing evens out in seconds. I pull my fingers out gently. Her thighs twitch at the withdrawal. By the time I've pulled the covers over her legs, she's already drifting into sleep.

I wash my hands in her bathroom, avoid my reflection, and climb into bed beside her.

The house goes quiet.

I watch her face in the low light. Chestnut hair fanned across the pillow. That faint downturn of her mouth, even in sleep.

I lean my head back against the headboard and stare at the ceiling.

I just bathed a woman who won't tell me why she needed a blood transfusion. Made her food. Washed her back while my jaw ached from biting down on everything I wanted to say. Then made her come, satisfying her thoroughly.

And I would do it all again. Every single night. For as long as she'd let me.

There’s no other way to say it.

I'm in love with Ava Hartley.

I laugh bitterly. I fucking love this woman, yet she doesn’t trust me enough to take care of her.

That might be the thing that breaks us.

The worst part is I don’t know what to do about it.

I settle onto my back, careful not to disturb her. If Ava needs me tonight, I want to be right here. Her breathing is steady beside me, even and deep, and I let the sound of it pull me under.

When I open my eyes, the light through the curtains is pale grey. Morning. Ava hasn't moved. The color is back in her face. Her lips are parted, her breathing deep.

I ease out of the bed and write on the notepad beside her bed:

Call me when you're up.

Biscuit has found her way back to Ava’s shin. She lifts her head, watches me pass with her ears flat.

"Watch her for me, Biscuit."

She lays her chin back on Ava's ankle.

I open the front door and step onto the porch.

A woman is walking up the path. She's Ava's height, same chestnut hair, but sharper everywhere else. Her stride is deliberate and clipped. Her arms are already crossed and she hasn't reached the porch yet.

Lucy Hartley.

The twin.

But where Ava's face invites you in, Lucy's stops you at the door.

She stops at the bottom of the porch steps. Her eyes sweep over my wrinkled clothes, the keys in my hand.

"You're Kai."

"Yes."

She eyes me from head to toe. "So you're the boyfriend."

I nod, one eyebrow raised.