Hernois silent but absolute. After tonight…the bullet, Leon’s news, the way I shoved Declan right as the shot cracked through the air…I’m fine with staying put. I shudder. If I hadn’t pushed him out of the way, that bullet would’ve hit one of us.
I pretend that doesn’t terrify me.
“Your animals?” I ask instead.
She nods. “Bruiser and Petal are mine and Seamus’s. Arnold and Clawzilla are technically Cal and Lucie’s. And then there are yours. Yet every single one of them acts like Dec is their person when he walks in. Sometimes it’s nauseating.”
“No, it isn’t.” The words come out sharper than I mean. “Animals are good judges of people.”
“At least you’ll be gone soon,” Ava says calmly. “Like you want. With your menagerie. And they’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure they will.” I swallow. “And just so you know, I don’t like Declan. He annoys me, he’s a cheater, he?—”
“A cheater?” Her brows shoot up. “He’s an outrageous flirt, I’ll give you that. But I don’t see him as the cheating kind. Their mother wouldn’t have allowed it. Anyway, I thought you said animals were good judges of character.”
I glare at her and refill my glass. The second whiskey slides down easier than it should.
“He isn’t dating the animals,” I mutter. “He’s just good with them.”
“He’s good with you and you’re not dating him,” she says.
“Not,” I say, “in a million years.”
Also, did she just compare me to the pets?
“Well, he’s a Murphy. They’re loyal. But since you don’t like him and you’re not dating him, whether he cheats or not isn’t really your problem, is it?”
I open my mouth to snap back…and close it again. I drain the rest of my drink and put the glass down harder than necessary.
“I’m going to bed,” I say before stomping upstairs like a sulky teenager.
It hits me halfway up the staircase that she totally played me. I just don’t know why.
Amusement? Curiosity? A test?
Ava isn’t open and warm like Lucie. She isn’t quiet and contemplative like Harriet. She feels like…something else. A former outsider talking to a current one. Someone who knows what it’s like to stand at the edge of a family and wonder if you’ll ever really be on the inside.
“Like I care,” I mutter.
I strip out of my clothes, stand under the hot shower for longer than I need to, and let the water beat down until my skin prickles.
I towel off and put on a clean, oversized t-shirt. And then I stand in the center of my room, not knowing what to do with myself.
Leon’s gift of delicate silver coasters sits on my dresser. His news buzzes in my veins. He’s found a way out of the life he’s wanted to escape. A path to freedom.
I want him to take it. Ineedhim to.
That’s why I told him Declan was helping me find my father. Why I told him if he needed to leave, he should. Maybe it makes me a shitty friend, turning down his help.
But if I had a door that led out of this madness, I’d run through it barefoot over hot goddamn coals.
I sigh and pick up the book I started and read the same line five times. I drop it on the bed, a deep sigh slipping through my lips.
The itch under my skin spreads. It has nothing to do with Leon and everything to do with Declan Murphy and his infuriating hands, and his even more infuriating mouth.
I wander to the closet and open it. The clothes hebought me are hung up neatly. They’re stunning. All my style with that soft, romantic, slightly dramatic edge. The shoes are all sensible, nothing with too high a heel except for one pair of hot pink strappy sandals that are pure slut in footwear form.
My heart kicks faster as I open the lingerie drawer. Everything is pretty, feminine, and filthy. I dig around and find the pieces we bought from the sex shop. Crotchless panties. A bra designed specifically to show nipples rather than cover them.
