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“I’ll sort that,” he murmurs. “Greg wants to leave in the next three days. How do you feel about tomorrow?”
I giggle, because Roark and Turner are totally okay discussing torture.
“Yeah, that’ll work. I just want to put some of this behind me. Don’t tell my therapist that we’re adding ‘torture’ to my therapy.”
“Your secret is safe with me, baby,” Turner grins.
“Anyone else you want to see before we leave?” Roark asks, cuddling me to him.
“No,” I tell them, shaking my head. “Greg can handle them however he’d like. Elaine hurt me the most, and now that Collymore is dead, I sometimes see her in my dreams. I want to feel safe again, even if it’s just while I’m sleeping.”
“Damn,” Turner mutters. “I noticed you were unsettled at night, but didn’t realize how bad it was. Do you really think killing her will help?”
I raise my eyebrow, because he’s always the first to beat people up in my honor.
“I don’t mean it like that,” he snickers. “Lavender, I asked Orion and Derek to make sure there was a bat in their kill room so they could get some swings in for me.”
“Okay, that’s really sweet,” I smile. “I know you would never make me feel bad for how I want to handle things. I’ve never been this bloodthirsty before, and it’s just one more thing to put down as post Hidden Hills. I feel different now.”
“You are different,” Roark rumbles, kissing my forehead. “You don’t owe either of us the person you were before. We all evolve, our experiences shape us, and it would be bullshit if I told you that you need to move on from this by being sunshine and light. Some dark, awful shit happened, and no one can dictate how you’re supposed to feel or act afterwards.”
“So…” Turner continues. “If you’re bubbly, cute, and a badass, that’s totally okay too. In fact, I’d prefer it. I need to know that you can beat the shit out of someone bigger than you, and kill them without a second thought. I need you to come home to me, every fucking time.”
I don’t know why, but this makes my eyes fill with tears and I blink quickly. I can’t be a cute badass bitch and cry. It ruins my image.
“I promise,” I rasp, and neither of them mention how odd my voice sounds.
There are notebooks on the table and I lean forward to look at them because they’re pretty.
Picking up the teal one with a pencil, I lean back into Roark's arms.
“Called that,” he chuckles. His laughter is like a cross between thunder and purring, and it makes me relax completely. Maybe I just need to spend more time snuggling with him, or get a cat who will purr for me.
“Hmm?” I ask, opening the notebook. Oooh… it has pretty purple pages.
“He said you’d like this notebook the best,” Turner chuckles, standing.
“Where are you going?” I ask, starting to doodle to clear my mind.
“I’m going to grab some snacks, just in case,” he tells me.
Mmm. Snacks sound good.
“Is there any more soda bread?” I ask. Roark had made some the other day, but it doesn’t usually last very long.
“I may have hidden some away for you,” Turner tells me with a secret smile as he leaves the room.
“We’ve got you covered, beautiful,” Roark tells me, and it makes me melt.
I am finally starting to feel like things will eventually be okay, even if there are people that need to die for it to happen.
Words start to fill my mind, and I go where it takes me, not paying attention to anything else.
* * *
Hours pass,and I don’t notice. I absently eat my fill of soda bread, write, and hum to myself.
I don’t know when I’ll get back on a stage with everything up in the air, but music is in my blood.
