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“I’ll go,” Asher volunteered.
“It’s settled, then,” Brody said, heading for the door.
“Wait,” I said, stopping him. “Since I have you all here, I want to hire the best fighting teacher there is in both weapons and hand-to-hand.”
“For you?” Stefan asked.
“For Brenna,” I said, making Dean and Asher smirk knowingly.
“I can reach out to your old self-defense instructor,” Brody offered.
I had to fight not to smile. “Brenna is too advanced for him.” I glanced at Stefan and found him staring at me with confusion showing on his face. The corner of my mouth lifted a tiny bit.
He took in my tiny smile with a slight tilt of his head. “You’ve been training her?”
“Did you think I’d let her continue to be docile? In this family?” I shook my head.
Stefan seemed impressed. “I’d thought it stupidly stubborn of you to call on a seventeen-year-old girl to come and help you. Now I see that wasn’t the case.”
“That seventeen-year-old girl killed three out of those four Aryans we hung from that bridge. She also helped me play target practice outside that bakery in Hartford,” I said.
Stefan’s face became schooled. “Let me assign security to the baby and I’ll find Brenna a teacher.”
Of course he’d use this to get something he wanted. “Fine, but after you find the best teacher for her. If you need help narrowing down the right one, ask Asher, Dean, or Finn. They’ve overseen her training so far.”
Stefan nodded and he left with Brody, the baby, and Asher. Dean lingered in my doorway.
I arched a brow at him.
He nodded at the pill bottle in my hand. “Did you take those?”
I shook my head and set the bottle back on my nightstand. “I don’t have much pain today.”
He reached into his pocket of his black cargo pants and pulled out a joint and a lighter. “Then do you want to get some fresh air, too?”
I snorted.
He tilted his head toward the hall behind him. “Let’s go into the living room. It’ll give you a change of scenery.”
I climbed out of bed and followed him into the living room. We both took a seat on the couch facing each other. Dean lit the joint and took the first couple of puffs, then held it out to me.
I took it. “I like your idea of fresh air.”
He smiled a little. “I figured you’d prefer this over a stroll along the property line when you need to de-stress.”
I took a hit and released it slowly. “Apparently I’ve become transparent.”
“Anyone with eyes can see that you’ve been keeping shit bottled in.”
I handed him the joint. “I’m processing in my own way.”
“What happened when you were taken or all of it?” he asked.
“All of it.” I laid the side of my head on the back of the couch. “Being back home feels different, yet the same. It’s because I’m different.”
He blew the smoke through his nostrils and relaxed back against the couch with me. “You’ve been through hell. You can’t expect to jump back into your life like nothing has happened.”
He was right.
