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My face twists into a sneer. “Do not.”
“Do too,” she rushes out. “You drooled as well.”
My eyes narrow and just to be sure, I glance down at the cushion that my face has been squished into for the last six hours to find a perfect round drool patch.
Fuck.
Karleigh’s voice comes hollered through the kitchen. “Don’t start with her, Racquel. Winter will whoop your miniature butt into next week if you push her buttons just right.”
The little girl’s eyes widen and I poke out my tongue just to prove a point. Her eyes narrow and before another comment can come flying out of her mouth, Karleigh calls out again. “All of you rascals, get yourselves seated at my table before breakfast gets cold. You too, Winter.”
I grumble and pull myself up, following the kids as they rush out of the living room.
Bacon and eggs line the dining table and my stomach grumbles. I had plans on skipping out early to get a head start on my suicide mission, but I guess one more meal wouldn’t go astray.
I sit down directly opposite Racquel just so I can press her buttons the whole way through breakfast and when we’re done and cleaning up the table, a heaviness sinks into my stomach, wishing I had more time with Karleigh.
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me in tight when we finish loading the dishwasher. “Don’t be a stranger,” Karleigh tells me. “I’m going to spend every day worrying about you until I get the call telling me that you kicked all their bitch asses.”
Loud, shocked gasps come from behind us before the kids burst into overwhelming fits of laughter at Karleigh’s casual use of words they could only dream to get away with using.
“I promise,” I tell her. “The second I can, I’ll call, and if you don’t hear from me, then you can safely assume that their bitch asses kicked mine.”
“Hey,” she snaps. “Last night I gave you a free pass, but no one gets away with using that kind of language in my house except for me. Is that understood? I don’t care that you’re all grown now. You could be a hundred years old, and I’ll still see you as the distressed little nine-year-old girl who smashed my great-grandmother’s glass vase when she lost her TV privileges.”
My eyes widen as a cringe cuts across my lips. “You still remember that?”
She points to her temple, narrowing her eyes on me. “This thing is like a storage pit, filled with all the awful things you guys have done to me over the years. I don’t forget anything. You’ll do well to remember that.”
I can’t help but laugh and she instantly pulls me back in. “Be safe, Winter. You’ve come so far. I’d hate to see anything happen to you. You deserve the world.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “It was great seeing you again.”
“You too, sweet girl. Now get out of here before you turn me into a blubbering mess.”
I pull back and give her a tight smile, hating that I have to leave my past behind again, but in order to have a future, I have no choice. I grab the key for the bike off the counter and start to make my way to the door when Racquel meets my stare and I can’t help but stop. “Have you ever made Karleigh really, really mad?” I ask her.
Racquel shakes her head and a sly grin twists across my lips. “Don’t even think about it, Winter,” Karleigh warns.
What can I say? Old habits die hard.
I lean down to whisper in Racquel’s ear, desperately holding onto the laughter that threatens to pour out. “Be careful. Once, I made her so angry, that she turned bright red and horns came out of her head. I swear, she even had a tail and a forked tongue. I think she’s some kind of devil-woman.”
Racquel’s mouth drops as her eyes go wide, and with those few parting words, I all but skip out the front door as Karleigh’s low, familiar groan sounds behind me.
Laughter bubbles out of me as I push my way out the door, feeling as though I made the right decision to come here last night. I feel empowered. I feel as though I can do anything, and I hope to God that I’m right.
I make my way around my bike, and just as I go to throw my leg over the seat a figure steps out from the shadows behind me. My head snaps around and I suck in a loud gasp.
Dante Fucking Carver.
His hands fly up, acting all innocent, and before I can even get a scream out, my fingers curl into a tight fist and I throw it forward, catching the bastard right in the jaw.
“Fuck,” he grunts, his hands flying up to his face as I silently praise myself for never taking my brass knuckles off, but it’s not over yet. His moment of distraction is all I need and I take the opportunity to bring my knee up and slam it right between his legs.
