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“I don’t want to end this, but you might want to after our conversation.”
“I’m all ears,” she says. “I think—oh, thank you.”
I nod my head at Cari when she brings the shakes to the table.
“You were saying,” she prods.
“While you were at the shelter, Kincaid brought up that we’re going to be leaving for a job soon.”
“And you want me out of the clubhouse?”
“What? No. I want you to know that you have to be protected. I won’t forgive myself if you get hurt because of your connection to me.”
Slowly she opens her straw, but realizes the shake is much too thick to consume that way, so she unwraps the silverware and pulls out the spoon.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, pulling her phone from her pocket when it rings.
I see MILLER on the screen before she silences the call and shoves it back into her back pocket.
“Do you need to take that?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“My psychiatrist,” she says with a quick shrug. She brings her shake-covered spoon to her mouth. “She’s not exactly working with me on getting my meds refilled.”
“I have insurance. You’re my wife and can use it. Are they expensive?”
“No. It’s just under a hundred dollars with my prescription card. It’s good until the end of the month, but she doesn’t want to write the prescription because I haven’t contacted a new therapist here.”
“We use Dr. Alverez. I can see about getting you set up to see her. She stays pretty booked, but I think she keeps slots open for Cerberus.”
“I’m not Cerberus.”
“You’re connected to Cerberus,” I remind her. “And as dangerous as that can be, there are also benefits to it as well.”
“Mental health services?” she asks with a quick chuckle.
“Especially that. We have some pretty intense jobs.”
“You seem more than okay with my diagnosis.”
“We all have our own shit, right?”
“Do you like strawberry and chocolate?” she asks, holding up her spoon in my direction.
I pull my head back. “I’m not really a sweets eater.”
My eyes drop to her mouth, wondering just how good her lips would taste, sticky from the two flavors and cold.
“We’re in a family restaurant,” she warns. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“No promises,” I tell her.
It takes a little longer than it usually does before our burgers and fries are brought out, but it’s no inconvenience for me to watch her lick her spoon and make little noises of pleasure.
“Do you think us getting married was like, I don’t know—”
“Impulsive behavior?” she interrupts. “Probably. I mean. Yeah, don’t you?”
I busy myself with squirting ketchup on my fries before answering.
“Really? You eat them like that?”
I look down at my plate, handing the ketchup over to her before watching her squirt a pile to the side of hers.
“Is it a deal breaker?” I ask, when really I’m wondering if I shouldn’t be talking some sense into her right now with the hasty decisions I’ve played a part in her making recently.
“Only if you tell me that you eat beans in your chili.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, a failing attempt to keep from smiling.
“Really?” she says with a look of disgust on her pretty face before dropping the fry in her hand back down to her plate. “Scoot over.”
She presses against me, urging me to get out of the booth.
Instead of sliding out of the way, I press my lips to hers, and I have to remind myself several times that we’re in public before I have enough control to pull back.
Chapter 22
Beth
“Are you going to think about me while I’m gone?” he asks, his arms around me as we stand in the middle of our room.
“How can I not? I think you sprayed the entire bed with your cologne.”
“You said you liked the scent of it,” he counters before pressing another kiss to my lips.
“I also like to breathe,” I complain, but honestly I appreciate the effort.
I expressed my concern about being here alone a couple days ago when we finally got around to him explaining at the diner that he had to leave for work.
I’m grateful for Em and Misty and for them making arrangements for me to work at the shelter. I haven’t gotten around to asking about pay, and I normally would volunteer my time, but there will come a time when I won’t have the luxury of living here at the clubhouse. As generous as I’d like to be, rent anywhere else wouldn’t be cheap.
“I’m going to call you every day,” he assures me.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer hasn’t changed since the last time I asked, but I don’t press the issue. When I did, he explained that there are trips they take that can last weeks, although they sometimes switch teams in and out.
Derrick is on Miles’s—Jinx’s—team, along with Thumper, Bishop, and Slick, the club’s psychologist and a woman I’ve studiously avoided since coming here. I know that they’re doing a mashup with some members from all three of the Cerberus teams heading out this morning. I don’t know if he’s leaving details out because he would no matter what, or if he’s being vague because he doesn’t want me, in particular, to know the details.
