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“Hey,” she protested.
“I’ll make more in a minute,” he said.
Monk nosed his face toward my plate, but I held it out of his snout’s reach.
“Monk, don’t be a beggar. Ladies don’t like that,” Boxer reprimanded.
Linden took her plate back. “Practice what you preach.”
“Boxer, do you know who Ghost is?” I asked.
Boxer shook his head. “That’s Slash’s thing. Word of advice, don’t dig too deeply.”
“I guess he’ll always have secrets from me,” I murmured.
“There are some secrets that would only jeopardize your safety.” He laced his fingers together and set his elbows on his thighs, leaning over. “He should’ve told you. He shouldn’t have kept this from you.”
“I know why he did though,” I said softly. “Not at the time, and I wish he’d come to me with the truth sooner, but it is what it is. I love him.”
“I’ll be damned,” he murmured.
I frowned. “What?”
Boxer looked at Linden. “You were right.”
She smirked. “I know.”
“What’s she right about?” I demanded.
Boxer rubbed his jaw. “You’re damned fine Old Lady material.”
We finished our food and then put the dishes in the dishwasher. Not that it mattered much, because the kitchen was sort of a mess.
“Let me show you Slash’s room,” Boxer said as we walked down the hallway of the first floor. “It has its own bathroom, so you don’t need to worry about sharing space with anyone else.”
“Are you implying that bikers can be gross?” I asked in amusement.
“The night of a party? Definitely.” He opened the door. Before I could step inside, Monk ran into the room and jumped up onto the bed.
“Monk!” Linden snapped her fingers and pointed to her feet, but Monk didn’t move. Instead, he thumped his tail rapidly.
“He can stay,” I said. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Might be nice not sharing the bed withtwobed hogs,” Linden said, shooting Boxer a teasing grin.
“You need anything, you wake us up. Yeah?” Boxer said.
I nodded.
“I’m serious.” He slung an arm around my shoulder and gave me a side hug. “You’re family, Brooklyn. I think you need to hear that.”
I hastily swiped at my eyes. “Damn it. I wonder how many times I’m gonna cry tonight.”
“You’ll be okay,” he whispered. “Promise. We’ll make it so you’re okay.”
“Good night, Boxer.”
“Night, Brooklyn.”
