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My heart broke. A ten-year-old kid shouldn’t be trying to help his mother like this. He had other things to worry about—like studying bacteria under a microscope like he’d done all last summer. I swore I never saw a kid more interested in science than my dear Anthony.
I wiped my face with the kitchen towel. “I’m fine, sweetie.”
Adhara appeared to my left with a bowl of cereal. She set it on the counter near me. “No, you’re not.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine, sweetie.”
But her face told me I wasn’t good at bullshitting my own kids. Laughter cracked through my façade. Just a few quick huffs got through, and then it was back to business, back to wiping my face and sighing, back to the kitchen table where Anthony pulled out a chair for me and Adhara refilled my coffee.
Anthony grabbed the juice jug from the fridge while Adhara got two more bowls of cereal. I watched my kids move around like they hadn’t just found me crying in the kitchen. Well, it was normal at this point, wasn’t it? Dr. Windsor said it would take time to heal, and that sometimes those wounds would occasionally pick themselves back open.
She had recommended a therapist who was a crane shifter, but I wasn’t interested in having my brain picked. Besides, that would mean leaving the ranch, and I didn’t exactly want to do that any more often than was necessary. It was bad enough that I had to work atThe Greasy Jester. Some nights, I wondered if it was worth doing. Until Fred walked in, of course.
“Mama, do you want the man from yesterday to walk us to school?” Adhara asked as she sat beside me.
I paused while reaching for my spoon. “What? Why would you say that?”
“Because he’s sitting on the porch.”
Just then, the circular swing on the front porch squealed, the chains rattled, and the floorboards creaked. I would have had a heart attack if my daughter hadn’t said anything, and I would have probably grabbed the sawed-off shotgun I kept in the coat closet tucked on the high shelf behind the safety box.
I stood up. “Eat your breakfast, dear.”
“Yes, Mama,” the twins replied in unison.
A shadow passed in front of the left-side living room window. Beyond the silky white curtains would be the open road, the red mailbox, and Mrs. Pots across the street. She knew about the shotgun in my closet. So did my kids. Nothing got past my children, and I refused to treat them like they weren’t capable of handling certain bits of knowledge, especially when it came to self-defense.
Life was short and unpredictable. They had to be prepared to meet whatever the future brought—with or without me.
As I approached the door, fear and rage melted from my shoulders. Excitement stirred in my gut as I reached for the knob, ears prickling with what felt like a strange anticipation that I had been retaining all night. Had I been wanting Slater to show up here in the darkness like he’d done once upon a time? Maybe. But I wouldn’t admit that to myself just yet.
I should open the door and tell him to go home, I thought as I slid the bolt lock out of place.Yeah, that’s good. That’s strong. Boundaries are good.
I returned the lock back to its place and went to the window. On the other side of the sheer fabric, the shadow paced. His boots hardly made a sound on the wood, mostly the creak and wheeze of the porch came through. Slater could be quiet when he wanted. He’d been trained to do such things by…
Well, it didn’t matter bywhoat this point.
After gently pushing the curtains aside, I unlocked the window and opened it. “Shoo, get out of here.”
Slater froze, his eyes locking on mine instantly.
And then all I saw were stars. Light blue with white streaked the dark skies where we’d once stood underneath night’s canopy just to witness a shower of comets. Those were his eyes right now, so wide and articulate that I thought they would swallow me up. Ancient oceans couldn’t have scared me more than the current intensity of his gaze.
At me—he was staring atmelike that.
Why?
I gripped the windowsill. “Did you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Miss Gin and Tonic.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t drink much anymore.”
“Why’s that? You used to be a loaded pistol way back when.”
“Way back whenwhat?” I didn’t mean to snap, but the way my stomach flipped disturbed and intrigued me. It was too early for messes and memories.
A critical look glazed his eyes. “We used to be in the same pack, you and I.”
