She nods, throwing back another chocolate-covered almond that she must have pilfered from the kitchen. She seems completely at ease here, like Cleopatra on a chaise eating grapes—if Cleopatra wore combat boots and fishnets.
“Why would you let—”
She shakes her hand at me, mouth full. “Just stop,” she says after swallowing. “If he was offering, why wouldn’t I?”
“Because we don’t need to be under his thumb. He’spsychotic.”
I may be weak for Jax Landon, but my statement stands. He is psychotic. He just happens to be irresistible, and I haven’t decided yet if I’mfightingit. But I might as well sleep in a bed here than a cot at Bell’s while I figure it out.
“No,” she says the word slowly, like I’m dumb. “He’s smart, and rich, and caring.”
I open my mouth to disagree, but find I can’t. Because heisrich. And stupid isn’t something I would call Jax. But caring…? Does spending money on clothes and promising to buy me a new house mean that he cares? Or is his real caring in burning down our house so the police couldn’t search it?
I groan and turn away. “I take it those boots you’re wearing are on his dime, too?”
“Mhm.” She sounds pleased with herself.
“You do know that he kills people, right?” I dig around in one of the bags for a shirt. I’m starting to feel like I’m going crazy. I just want one person to admit Jax is unhinged.
“Yep,” she agrees but doesn’t seem fazed.
I take a steadying breath. “Do you know that he killed Nosy Nellie?” It’s a stretch, but still, it’s his fault she’s dead.
She pauses mid-crunch, and I think I’ve gotten through to her until she continues chewing. “I wondered why I hadn’t seen her.”
Her tone is so nonchalant that I spin back around and gape at her. “Have you lost your mind? She was a defenseless old woman.”
“She was crotchety.” She shrugs. “And if he did kill her, I’m sure he had a good reason.”
“When is there a good reason tokillsomeone?!”
My god, I should make Jax buy her therapy along with the house. Clearly, the Marshal thing has undone her. Or maybe it was me raising her that messed her up. Maybe I didn’t teach her right from wrong.
“Never!” I snap before she can say anything, and snatch up the bag of almonds. “Never,” I say again, scolding her like a child. “Never, ever.” I shove a handful in my mouth, aware that she’s not the only one that’s been undone.
“So, Marshal trying to force himself on me wasn’t a good reason?”
Shit.
I push the almonds to the side of my mouth. “‘Hat’s wot what I meant.”
“And you know,” she sits up, snatching the bag back from me. “Maybe I didn’t want to be in that house anymore after that.”
Double shit.
I sag, my heart clenching. I’ve been so caught up with just trying to survive this nightmare that I didn’t even think about that. I just thought—I mean, of course, I didn’t like the idea of living where Marshal bled out, but moving never crossed my mind. That house… that was all we had. And if she had said something, I would have switched rooms with her. Or she could have slept in my room forever.
“I’m sorry,” I say and sit down next to her.
She crinkles her nose.
“I’m serious. I didn’t—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Can we not get weepy? I just did my eyeliner.”
I click my tongue and roll my eyes. “You know, normal people talk about their feelings. If you don’t want to talk to me, maybe a counselor or—”
“I amnotgetting therapy.”
