How I can help.
What more I can do to keep her out of harm’s way.
What’s next?my sister asked.
We know how this goes.
I get obsessed with something, I achieve it, I move on.
I won’t do that to a woman.
She won’t be the next obsession.
Because I won’t hurt her when I move on if I don’t let her in in the first place.
Even if the way that Nigel fucker has treated her makes me want to do things that would result in jail time.
Which I won’t do.
Came close enough to jail once before. Not interested in needing another cover-up.
I hold out a fist to Ava. “You know what’s up, don’t you?”
She stares at my fist like she doesn’t know she’s supposed to bump it. “You uggy.”
“That’s what my lady friend says too.”
Beck sighs. “How about we saythat’s not for meinstead of calling things ugly?”
“Dat uggy,” Ava replies.
“That’s not for meis a lot of words,” I agree.
“It’s four words,” Beck says. “One syllable each. Only one R in the whole bunch, and no L’s at all.”
“One of those words is a contraction. It’s like five words. Very confusing.”
Ava looks between us.
Beck offers her a piece of a chip.
“Dat dirt?” she asks.
Okay, yes.
Beck visiting is helping me feel a little more comfortable in my own skin. Especially since he’s easily distractible.
It’s like a game.
But he and Ava can’t stay forever.
And I need to make sure the security system at the museum is good.
So when the two of them pass out for an impromptu nap on my couch, I climb onto my bike, put on my helmet, and head down the mountainside and into Shipwreck.
Sloane isn’t my responsibility.
But no matter how many times I tell myself that, I can’t help but arguing back.
