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“What’s that look for?” Kincaid asks.
“Hmm? What look?”
“The one that looks like you just swallowed something nasty.”
I shake my head. I know there’s more to her being here than it being unsafe to leave. No one I know would trade their own home for a small bedroom, living in a house with a complete stranger, if they had a choice. I don’t know why she sobbed or what her emergency was, but her being here has something to do with it.
Maybe she just recently broke up with a boyfriend and he kicked her out of his house.
I look back at Kincaid, worried she’s in trouble.
“Is there anything I should be concerned about?”
His eyes dart from the door at the end of the hallway back down to me.
“I don’t think there is, but you have supplies in your bedroom if you need them.”
We’re on the same wavelength. I know by supplies he’s letting me know I have a gun and ammunition in there if anything comes up. We live in a fucked-up world, and a door with a deadbolt doesn’t always keep the monsters on the other side.
“Em, Misty, and Khloe came and made sure the beds had clean linens. You have more clothes in your closet.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him, truly thankful for what he’s done, but also wondering when his kindness will run out. There has to be a limit, right?
“They’ve also stocked the fridge and pantry. Quick shit. There are some frozen casseroles in the freezer with instructions on them.”
“Chicken and dumplings?” Legacy asks as if he’s inviting himself to dinner or something.
“There are also several takeout menus on the counter,” Kincaid says, ignoring the other man. “If there’s something you want that isn’t here.”
“Sounds good,” I tell him.
“And this is for you.”
Kincaid pulls out his wallet, slipping a credit card from it before offering it to me.
“I have my own money.”
“We all have a card, man,” Legacy says.
“They didn’t find your wallet after you were hurt. The police have no idea what Dixon did with it. You had one before. This is the replacement.”
I take the card because arguing about it with an audience is never a good idea.
As if he can feel my discontent, Legacy lowers the recliner back to the floor and walks out of the house.
“You can stay here as long as you like,” Kincaid says. “As long as you need to.”
“And if I never get my memory back?”
“Even with a five-year hole in your memory, you were a damn good Marine. You’re qualified for Cerberus, Bishop. If you want to stay on the team, you just have to pass the testing again. I have no doubt you’ll be able to do that when you’re ready.”
“I appreciate the offer,” I tell him without committing to anything.
I wasn’t at Cerberus long before I was injected with poison, but forgetting a month of friendships formed and interactions with the teams is weird, not that anyone would admit that to my face.
I have to consider that I was new once before, and this honestly isn’t much different than that would’ve been.
“I’ll consider it.”
“I hope you do,” Kincaid says, before nodding his head and walking out of the house.
I watch from my sitting position on the sofa as both Kincaid’s and Legacy’s dark SUVs pull away from the house.
I don’t know how it’s possible to feel grounded yet at the same time feel like I have no roots. I’ve lost the two women who were the most important to me. Farmington holds Rivet, and Rivet is being held every night by another man. Mom is gone. I should want to bolt. I should buy a car and just drive until I feel better, but I don’t have any urge to leave New Mexico.
I sit in the silence for half an hour before Sunshine emerges from the back bedroom.
Chapter 21
Sunshine
“Your friends left already?” I ask as if I hadn’t waited until they were gone to come out of the bedroom.
“Coworkers,” he corrects.
I nod at him, making my way through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Any idea what you’d like for a late lunch?”
“You don’t have to make lunch for me. Your babysitting job doesn’t start until six.”
I frown with my back to him.
“I’m hungry. If you want to watch me eat, that’s fine. I just thought it would be rude to eat in front of you.”
I don’t bother looking back at him as I open the fridge.
“There’s stuff to make sandwiches.”
“No.”
“There’s enough stuff to make a charcuterie board.”
“A what?”
“Char—have you never heard of it before? It’s sort of a new trend. It’s like an adult Lunchable. Meats, cheeses, fruits, sometimes olives.”
“I fucking hate olives.”
I grin. Other than the cuss words it sounds like something Ryder would say.
“I’d like pizza,” he adds.
I pull open the freezer. “There are casseroles in here. Honestly, I’m too hungry to wait for one of those to be ready, but there isn’t any pizza.”
