Page 42 of Jay Bird

“I’m not part of your group. I’m not someone’s wife or sister or family member.” She looked toward the hallway where Lily slept. “Why is everyone doing all of this for us?”

Jay Bird could have given several answers. Because she had saved Riley, and Mia loved her like a sister. Because a scared little girl had grabbed his shirt and somehow gotten past defenses grown adults hadn’t managed to penetrate in years. Or because when Willow smiled at him, something in him settled in a way he hadn’t expected, and he found himself wanting to see it again.

Yeah, that last answer needed to stay very fucking far away from his mouth.

“Because you’re under our protection now.”

Her gaze lifted to his.

Jay Bird kept his voice steady. “You helped one of ours when Riley needed you. You got yourself and Lily out of a situation most people wouldn’t have survived, and you came here for help. That’s enough.”

Willow swallowed and nodded. Then she asked another question, changing the topic. “How often do you deploy?”

“There’s no fixed answer. Sometimes we have notice. Sometimes we don’t.”

“And if you got called away while we’re here?”

Jay Bird understood the concern immediately.

“If we got called up right this second, you wouldn’t be on your own. Systems are in place, and families are taken care of while we’re gone. Derek knows you’re here. Plus, you have Riley and Mia. Rest assured that if I leave, you still have people checking on you, and this house stays secure. And nobody is moving you anywhere unless you want to go.”

That last part mattered. He could see it in the way her shoulders loosened, tension easing out of her like she’d been holding her breath for far too long.

“Okay,” Willow said and then yawned, quickly covering her mouth, as if she could hide how exhausted she really was.

Jay Bird smiled. “You should go get some sleep.”

She glanced toward the bedroom. “You’re right. Plus, I better get back in case Lily wakes up and sees I’m not there.”

Willow stood, taking her glass with her. “Good night.”

“Night, Willow.”

She took a couple of steps, then turned back. “And thank you.”

Jay Bird groaned. “That’s twenty-two.”

“I hate that you’re counting.”

“I’m thinking of making a chart.”

“Good night, Jay Bird,” she said laughingly, and then disappeared down the hall.

A moment later, the bedroom door clicked softly shut, and after a brief pause, he heard the faint turn of the lock settling into place.

Jay Bird sat there for another few seconds, staring toward the hallway. He was glad she had locked it, and that alone probably said more about the situation than anything else.

Eventually, he pushed himself off the sofa and shut off the lights before heading toward his side of the house.

Jay Bird slowed as he reached his bedroom. The place felt different tonight. Nothing had physically changed. The same oversized television still dominated the living room. The same lonely end table sat beside the couch. The same undecorated walls were still bare enough to qualify as a rental listing.

But now there was a tiny pair of sneakers by the entryway, a child’s cup left beside the sink, and strawberry yogurt taking up a shelf in his refrigerator like it had always belonged there. And across the house, Willow and Lily slept behind a door Willow had chosen to lock. For the first time in four years, the house didn’t feel empty. It felt shared.

Jay Bird thought back to Willow laughing while sitting on his couch, Lily calling his name from the back seat, and a front yard that apparently desperately needed flowers.

He shook his head and walked into his room. Two days, and somehow Willow and her little koala had already started changing things he hadn’t realized he had stopped wanting changed.

That should have scared the hell out of him. But the real problem was, he wasn’t sure he wanted them to stop.