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“What?” My mate suddenly looks like she’s seen a ghost.
“You’re staying with Chris and Cher at your old place? Or going to Frankie’s?” He cocks his head.
“Oh,” she says distantly. “Hadn’t decided yet. Anyways, see you around.”
With one last curious look in my direction, the sheriff leaves us, heading back toward the center of the tiny town. If I was Niko, I’d want to know about this male who seems so interested in my mate. But I have a feeling that if I told Niko to keep an eye on the situation, he wouldn’t care in the least. In any case, I might put regular DJ Newton check-ins on Kira’s list of comm sleuthing.
“Who are Chris and Cher?” I ask as we move to join Raffa at the transport launch zone.
“Chris is my ex,” she says, her skin draining of color. “And Cher is his new wife. So… apparently, they’re here? I think I’m gonna be nauseous.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
KAYE
It’s beensilent since I announced to Kalla that my ex and his new wife were here. I didn’t want to keep talking to DJ, so I decided not to ask him follow-up questions. Kalla had just gotten him to shut up with his depressing declarations about being orphaned, and the last thing I need is to have the sheriff fishing around in our business. Raffa starts to nod off in the backseat as we zoom steadily across the monotonously flat and pink landscape of wheat fields. Only the intermittent roof of a settlement breaks up the scenery below us.
Finally, Kalla leans over to whisper to me.
“I hope you know you can always change your mind,” he says. “At your word, I can kill him if you want.”
At first, I’m startled, worried we’ll have to talk about not murdering on my behalf again. But when I glance over, he’s chuckling.
“That probably won’t be necessary. But I’ll keep that in mind.”
We share a smile. His handsomeness is suited best by these cheeky smiles, and I love feeling like they’re just for me. I wish he’d smile more in this natural way, because usually when I see him smile, there’s a flatness to it. The difference is in how his eyes squint up and his cheeks crinkle. It’s a true smile, not that of a caustic joke. Even if his glee can be a bit bloodthirsty, I find it charming.
“I never said I wouldn’t rough him up,” Kalla comments as the skimmer dips down beside my farm.
The descent wakes Raffa, who starts muttering incoherently.
“You can stay here if you want,” I offer. “Kalla and I need to go check on something.”
“Whatever,” he grumbles before flipping over into a full sprawl on the bench that can accommodate three humans sitting upright.
With that, Kalla and I hop out of the vehicle. He lets me lead the way toward the door. My stomach is twisting all the while. The lights are on inside my little pre-fab house that I picked from an online catalogue. I had been expecting to feel relief when I finally saw this place again. How will I respond when I see him? I might clam up or lash out. Why is he at my place? Was he worried about me? I made sure that everyone knew I was safe as soon as I was released by the Zaledian authorities that rescued me.
“Kaye.” Kalla’s warm palm presses against the middle of my back. “We don’t have to do this tonight. I could buy a night in town. Or we could go to your friend’s home and come back tomorrow when you’ve had time to—”
“No, it’s best I confront it now. Waiting is only going to make me more anxious than ever,” I say.
He nods, lightly brushing his fingers over my back. He touches the ends of the hair that reach the base of my spine. What I’d like to do is press myself against him and hide from this unwanted problem. But at least he’s here.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“For having a cool head about this whole situation, instead of barging in there or acting like a jealous maniac.”
His smile returns, but it’s not the sweet smile that I love the most. It’s a malicious smirk that the darkness of nighttime turns positively evil.
“Little flame, my head is not ‘cool’ in the slightest, and I’m very thankful you aren’t a mind reader.”
I snort. “Let’s go already.”
I’m not going to knock, I decide. It’s my own damn house, and for all they know, I have no idea they’re here. I throw the door open and head right inside.
It’s the same place in theory, but all the dressings are different. The art I hung is gone, replaced by wooden things with country slogans. The furniture is mine, but there are new blankets and pillows slung around, all in a minimal color scheme I hate. Where’s my yellow basket full of crochet yarn? Where’s my pile of puzzles that Frankie and I never got around to?
