I roll my eyes. “Says the woman who lied about her age and her relationship with her daughter and granddaughter.”
Mom doesn’t acknowledge me. “And my regulars were pretty happy when Eight paid them back. He gave them a lot more money than Henri stole.”
“I didn’t steal the money,” Henri exclaims. “Oscar did!”
“I like Oscar,” mom says, dismissing the fact that Oscar has criminal tendencies. “When he was here, you’re mom and I debated over whether we should keep him.”
Henri’s eyes widen. “You did not!”
“Well, I had to talk some sense into your mom. I made her go get you.”
“Not true. I was already going to get you.”
“You were lazing in bed when I talked to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. But there was no rush.”
Mom turns her attention to Henri. “Thief, tattoo, gangbanger. Go.”
Henri does, explaining her adventures, what happened and why. I add a few details especially when she gets precariously close to blaming me for the events.
Mom listens without interrupting which means Henri’s a good storyteller or Mom’s zoned out.
Henri finishes with, “And now mom and Eight are together. He even let her drive us home in his truck.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Impound,” I say.
“Are you moving out then?” Mom asks with a bit too much anticipation in her voice.
“Not yet. We’re taking it slow.”
She looks disappointed. “How long do you think that will be?”
I’ve been living with mom since Henri was born. No one wants me to move out more than me, except for mom. “Eight and I think we should give Henri and Oscar time to adjust to the idea of living together under the same roof.”
“I will never adjust!” Henri shouts.
Mom says to me, “You aren’t leaving her here.”
There goes plan A.
Chapter Forty-Five
Eight
It’s an hour after midnight as I slip out of bed. Selkie is sprawled out on the mattress, one of my tees riding high on her hips. Her long hair flares around the pillow, shiny in the moonlight. She likes it in a ponytail, and I like it however she wants to wear it. I love it when she takes the elastic out of her hair and runs her hands through it to untangle it. That’s when my fingers start to itch, that’s when I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her until she can’t breathe, then fuck her ‘til she cries mercy.
I watch as she softly breathes in and out. Sometimes it unnerves me to see her asleep and silent. She’s so full of life, so challenging, has something to say all the time. She’s unique, one of a kind. She lights up my core, makes me feel alive. Makes me crave her every hour of every day.
And she’s committed to me. And to Oscar and Henri and to everything she does. She won’t give up her bounty hunting, but I won’t stop asking her to. We argue about that. She says she has Brambles. I say it’s not enough. She says it was before I came along. And I say, I can’t lose you to some fuck who wants you dead.
That’s why I’m out of bed and getting dressed. As I’m putting my gun in my holster, she shifts to her back and watches me with half-open eyes. “Where are you going?” she murmurs.
“Got a Jury thing,” I lie as I kneel on the mattress and hover over her, kissing her softly on the forehead. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
She cradles my face in her hand and touches her lips to mine. “Don’t get caught,” she whispers. Then she closes her eyes like she hasn’t a care in the world.
