Page 160 of Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)


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Sleep closes over me like water, but I’m somehow smiling.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Gigi

Eight Months Later

I hang the last banner and climb down from the chair, stepping back to check my handiwork. “What do you think?”

“Passable,” Merc says, then grins when I glare at him. “Looks fine, sis. I’m sure your man will appreciate it.”

I give my banner another doubtful glance.

We rarely decorate, even for the kids, but today is a special occasion.

Jarett is getting out of prison.

He’s out early on good behavior. It’s been eight months, though it felt like frigging years. I’m so excited I can’t sit still for two seconds.

I go check the snacks and the cake. Check my messages.

Check the time.

“You’re driving me nuts, know that?” Merc mutters. “Sit down for a second, will you? Take deep breaths, do some yoga, I dunno. Take it easy.”

“You know I can’t sit still.”

But I can’t get mad at him. He’s going with me to pick Jarett up. His playlists and jokes are the main reason I stayed sane—well, mostly—these past eight months.

That, and phone calls with Jarett, and the visits they allowed us.

“Come on,” Merc says now. “Let’s go.”

“It’s still early.” But I’m already grabbing my purse and jacket.

“No use waiting if you can’t relax for two seconds. We can stop on the way for coffee. Yeah?”

“You’re the best brother ever,” I tell him honestly.

“And don’t you forget it.” He winks at me, and turns to his phone, to ask for an Uber.

It’s finally happening. Jarett is coming back.

My heart pounds with equal measures joy and nervousness. I love him, and he said he loves me. He said it once, long ago, but he asked me to wait for him.

I do love him, so much my heart bleeds love. I’ve never cared for someone like that before. But can we be together? Can we pick up where we left?

True to his word, Merc has the Uber stop to grab some coffee, and then he takes us to the correctional facility.

We wait inside the car, and I can’t take my eyes off the prison gates.

Merc rolls his eyes at me.

I don’t care. This feels like Christmas morning and every birthday I’ve ever had and end of the year test, all rolled into one.

Finally the gates open, and three guys walk out, holding plastic bags with what have to be their clothes and things.

Jarett. I know his body, his dark hair, the way he moves.

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