“That sounds heavenly,” she says, sighing.
“You alright, Freyja?”
“I’m happy,” she responds. “This entire day has been picture perfect.”
“It sure has,” I say, gazing down at her. “But that’s all due to you.”
She turns her head, beaming up at me. Her smile is like the sky opening up and the sun shining down on me. “Come on, baby. The temperature is dropping and I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Her health has improved under the watch of Splicer. She no longer gets sick every other week and her skin has a healthy glow to it.
As I stand, she reaches up her hand so I can help lift her up. Her legs wobble so I bend and pull her into my arms, walking us to our clothes so we can get dressed and head inside. Chaney will be coming home in the next hour or so, and I want to drag my feet and prolong this independent time with Freyja as much as I can.
But knowing Chaney, she’ll be excited at the development between Freyja and me. Optimistically, our relationship should be able handle the fact that I want to spend the evening alone with her sister.
Ever since Chaney and I came together in my bedroom, she’s been voracious and has spent every night in my arms. If what they claim is true, that they’re willing to share me without any jealousy between them, she won’t give me a hard time when I ask this of her.
This night may be the test of their vision for what we could be. But I have high hopes because Chaney was the one who decided to spend the day away from the house so I could push Freyja past her boundaries.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
CHANEY
That Summer
Everything has settled for us, like a stack of dominoes that are falling into place since the day Nova and Freyja took that next step in their relationship, cementing it. I no longer feel like I have to walk on eggshells around my sister. I can share every one of the whirlwind emotions I’m experiencing with her without her feeling dejected as I skip through the day with a giant grin plastered on my face while she’s withdrawn, hiding from us wearing fake smiles.
Last week, I got my motorcycle license and the club bought me my first bike as a way to celebrate my accomplishment. It’s a used one but seeing as I’ve never owned anything I’m enamored by it—it’s so beautiful that I can’t stop looking at it. I sneak into the garage more often than not just to take a peek at it. It’s black on black, shorter than theirs since my legs are shorter, but it’s no less powerful than the ones they ride.
Last night, Nova and I rode side-by-side for hours, just enjoying the freedom of the open road. It was wonderful! When we gothome, Freyja had dinner on the table and we sat down then ate together, talking about our day.
I’m taking on smaller jobs that are close to home for Nova’s firm. When I first started, I had a shadow, but now that I’ve proven I can handle the risky tasks on my own, I’m flying solo. But they’re breaking me in with those pesky jobs none of his staff wants.
Spying, blah.
Cheating spouses, double blah.
I’ll never understand why you’d stand before an audience of your friends and family, dedicate your life to someone with promises of forever, swear to love, honor, cherish, and be faithful to them only to turn around and disrespect them while flipping off the vows you made by bedding another.
Without fail, whenever I’m around a cheater, it leaves a foul taste in my mouth. Every time I jot down encounters or snap photographic evidence of their shameful deceit, I want to rush up to them and pop them in the back of their heads, hoping to reawaken their brain cells because obviously, they aren’t firing on all cylinders and need a good whack to get them back on track. It gives new meaning to hit and run, which is what I would love to do. They’d never see me coming and wouldn’t be able to give a description of me because I’ve learned how to blend into the darkness like a phantom.
Not beating the crap out of them is something I’m struggling with. Which I’m sharing with Nova. “You can’t beat them up, Chaney.”
“Why not?” I ask, grinding my teeth in aggravation.
“Because, for one, it’s not ethical,” he states, shaking his head.
“What’s the second reason?” I inquire.
“Do you want a list?” he questions, staring at me as if I’ve lost my marbles.
“It’d be nice,” I harrumph.
“You’ve got to detach yourself from your cases, baby girl. You’re going to see things worse than this as you progress.”
“I just feel bad for their husbands and wives,” I admit. “People shouldn’t get married if they aren’t going to be faithful.”
“I agree,” he tells me, reaching across the table and placing his hand over mine. “Unfortunately, this is the way it’s been since the beginning of time. It’s acceptable and expected in some cultures.”
