“Yeah?” Easton’s gaze swept the wreckage of the room. “Looks like it.”
He didn’t skimp on the sarcasm or spare my feelings, and while he was being an absolute ass about it, I almost appreciated not being coddled. Still, the sting of the words burned hotter than the welt on my cheek.
Sage jumped in before I could fire back. “She’ll stay with me tonight. No arguments.”
Relief fluttered in my chest, quickly drowned by humiliation. I hated being the one who needed saving.
Wade nodded, satisfied with that compromise. He turned back to me. “You think of anything else—anything at all—you call me directly.” He scribbled his cell number on a card even though I’d known it for years. “I’ll keep you updated. If you think of anything, let me know. I’ll be hunting Derek down just to be sure.”
Great. That would go over well.
The radios on his hip crackled, a dispatcher’s voice cutting through with some call across town. Wade muttered a curse. He looked at me one last time, regret shadowing his eyes, before heading out with a brisk nod. “I’ll be around back just getting those prints before I go.”
Easton lingered.
The silence between us stretched taut.
“Thanks,” I said finally, because my grandmother had raised me to mind my manners, even when my blood still pounded with fear. “I appreciate you coming.”
He studied me for a long moment, unreadable. Then he stepped back, jaw flexing before pinning me with a stare. “Lock the door. And if you see anything, call. Sage has my number. Will you put it in your phone?”
“We’re not stupid.” She called after him.
“Just do it to protect your plants.” His face softened, and he winked at her. I was suddenly struck by this new side to Easton Holt that I’d not seen before. His expression was open and teasing … soft as he looked at Sage.
“Come on. Let’s pack a bag. We have tequila calling our name.”
“Merrick. Put my number in your phone.” He’d crossed his arms, and the movement made them look even bulkier … and tempting in the way it showed off the muscles in his forearms. I wished I could step into them and hide just for a few minutes.
“Fine,” I managed to answer just before Sage pulled me away. But she was right. We did have tequila calling our name.
10
Lila
I didn’t even protest when Sage shoved a pair of her oversized pajama pants and a vintage concert tee into my arms. I’d been to her house a hundred times before, enough that I knew the way without the lights on, but tonight felt different. After the break-in, after the shove against the wall and the sting still fading on my cheek, I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Her guest room smelled like lavender and eucalyptus, soft and calm, but she dragged me out of it almost immediately. “No hiding in here. The living room is prepped for maximum comfort. Tequila, Netflix, and the weighted blanket. Pizza is already here. You know the drill.”
She was already barefoot, auburn hair twisted into the world’s messiest bun, her pajama pants patterned with little green leaves. I’d seen them so many times that Iknew she called them her “plant pants.” Sage never missed a chance to stay on brand.
Following her down the hall, I muttered, “Seriously, why do you keep tequila on standby like it’s first aid?”
“Please,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “You’ve been here before. You know I keep tequila like other people keep Band-Aids. Lo Lo gives it her medical seal of approval.”
That made me laugh, even with my throat tight. Sage lived to make things lighter, and right now I needed that more than I could say. Categorically, Chloe did not give her medical seal of approval for tequila, but I could go with it.
Her living room was the same cozy jungle I’d always known. Houseplants spilling from macrame hangers, glass bottles lining every surface, each holding a single bloom. I knew most of them had a story because Sage couldn’t help telling me: which thrift store she’d found the bottle in, or what emotion she’d pressed into each flower tucked inside her journal. Tonight, the place looked like it had been expecting me.
“You do realize your plants are staring at me,” I teased, dropping onto the couch where the weighted blanket already waited.
“They’re used to you,” she shot back, plopping down beside me. “You’re practically family.”
The words hit me in the chest harder than I expected. I swallowed past the lump and forced a grin. “You say that, but last time I watered them when you were out of town, you said I traumatized the spider plant.”
“Because you did. She still hasn’t recovered. But she forgives you.” Sage nudged my shoulder. “Now eat. Pizza, extra olives, because you’re a weirdo.”
“Olives are elite.” I pulled a slice free. “Don’t slander them. They’re watching you.”
