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With a sigh, he stuffs his hand into the satchel and pulls out an envelope. The paper is brown and brittle, stained with mysterious splotches from maybe coffee cups or other sources of moisture.
I flip open the metal tab and plunge my hand inside, drawing out the sheaf of papers. Birth certificates, that sort of thing. Not for Angel, but for me and Owen. I have to figure out how to get Angel an ID and that sort of thing some other time.
But in with the papers, there’s a set of house keys. And another deed.
“Are you the only person who knows about the drawer?” I ask him slowly.
He shrugs, scratching sleepily at the hair that covers his belly.
“Yeah, probably. Not like anybody else would ever dare go through your stuff, Silas.”
“And how do you feel about LA?”
Owen raises his eyebrows at me. Angel shifts, raising her chin to stare at me and blinking, wide-eyed.
“What is an LA?”
“Los Angeles, baby,” I tell her softly. “The city of Angels. You want to go?”
“It's only about a two-day drive,” Owen chuckles. “Like the old days, man. Will we be cool there? What are those keys?”
“Dad’s last stand,” I answer quietly. I think he understands. Just before he died, he sent me a letter. It was kind of an apology, if you can call three pages of rambling accusations and non-sequiturs an apology. But he enclosed the keys, and asked that we visit him.
We didn’t.
A couple months later, his attorney sent me the death certificate and the deed. The house would be ours. I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do with Owen, though. He probably would have wanted to visit the old man. I have no regrets.
“So… we have a destination?” he asks quietly.
“Everything happens for a reason, I guess,” I say, finally starting to believe that maybe that is true after all.
“Could we really do that?” she asks me. “The three of us?”
“It kind of looks like that’s the divine plan, doesn't it? Who are we to argue?”
She puts a big smile on her face, the kind that stretches her lips so wide I can see both rows of her perfect white teeth, and the bunching up of her freckled cheeks as she closes her eyes. I realize that smile is the perfect reward.
She wriggles against me, squeaking tiny animal noises of happiness. “Let's do it!”
“Yeah, I suppose we can do anything we want now, right?” Owen suggests, coming back around to the empty side of the bed.
“Anything we want,” she echoes happily. She wriggles up my body, coming nose to nose with me, then kisses me gently on the mouth. “Like this? I just do this if I want to?”
“You could do that,” I say softly, and feel myself starting to stir.
Interested, Owen shifts too, bringing his body closer to hers. I watch him stroke the outline of her hip under that pretty floral dress she made.
“Kiss me harder,” she breathes, her tongue running along the seam of my upper lip. I take her face in my hands, opening her mouth with my thumbs so I can taste her sweet flavor. I kiss her hard, deeply, claiming her. She's mine now. Finally.
“Oh yes, Daddy,” she sighs. Just hearing the word starts to drive me wild. I’m suddenly aware of the lines of her body draped across mine, her long legs, her sweet, small breasts high against my chest. I feel Owen slipping her skirt up a little more, and I reach out to touch smooth skin of her thigh.
“You too, Brother,” she sighs, stopping just a moment to utter the command. “I want to feel you too.”
“Angel, I'm going to be your Master, you know that?” I tell her. Then I wait so she opens her eyes to make sure that she knows, that she really understands what that means. “I will take your flower now. It's ours. To share. Do you agree?”
She smiles again, so pretty, so full of joy. She nods urgently, kissing me over and over again, tiny little angel kisses all over my face.
“Yes! Yes! That's what I want!”
