"Head of Security, reporting for duty!" Chance boomed, full command voice, and Huey did a happy twirl, tail flying.
I rolled my eyes, but the scene got me anyway
In the living room, Livia raised a cup in mock salute as I passed, not even pausing her conversation with Mere about which winter veggies survived the cold snap.
Fifi woke from where she dozed on the recliner
"DID YOU KISS?" she shrieked, high decibel, zero filter.
"None of your beeswax," I fired back, but my cheeks had already confessed the whole story.
"Solid!" she crowed, then made a beeline for the kitchen. "There's brownie bites left, Mom!"
I heard Mere mutter, "I saved you three, but you owe me."
Shaking my head, I said, "I'm headed for bed."
The temptation to turn around, to see if Chance would follow, was almost unbearable. I tasted the possibility in every cell. What if, just this once, I let the floodgates open and stopped worrying about consequences?
But then, old memories crashed the hormone party.
Gerty's first boyfriend. The whirlwind romance that turned to ash almost overnight. How all the sweet gestures in the world didn't mean a guy was worth keeping.
I'd promised myself, no trainwrecks. I wanted this. God, did I want this. But I owed everyone, myself included, a shot at stability first.
I paused a full heartbeat at my bedroom door, remembering every detail, the way Chance's hand trembled, barely, when he kissed me. The way the charger gleamed in the truck like a secret handshake. My girls, their hopes.
Sometimes a guy was worth keeping.
But I'd take it slow.
Chance
I parkedin the same crooked spot as always, front bumper grazing the curb and a patch of black ice under the wheels. Molly's Diner looked like it hadn't changed since the nineties with a peeling sign, big window streaked with sun, that ancient neon "Open" half-burned out. Inside, it was packed. Old brick, brass rails, vinyl seating that squeaked when you so much as looked at it. Every table crammed with farmers, construction crews, and teenage girls in ugly Christmas sweaters. The noise hit first, spoons clinking, the fryer screaming, and the world's worst country music piping out of a ceiling speaker, low and raspy.
Home sweet home.
Xavier had already staked out the corner booth, the one with the patched cushion and the best line of sight inthe parking lot. He looked every inch the sheriff. Uniform starched, collar perfect, silver badge polished so bright it glared. His short haircut was pure cop. Hard to believe we shared a bloodline, sometimes, but that's dragons for you. I guess genetics didn't care about personality.
He'd taken personal time for this meeting. My cousin was a guy you could depend on..
He didn't look up when I slid in across from him. Just kept stirring coffee, wrist loose, the way he used to fidget when we were younger. He was older than me, closer to my brother Evan in age, and I'd tagged after him as a kid. He'd put up with it and included me in more dangerous stuff than I hoped Mom ever found out about.
I'd barely dropped into the seat when a waitress, Molly's daughter, with big blonde hair and a pink uniform, handed a mug in front of me and asked, "You want cream or just grit, sugar?"
"Grit's fine," I shot back. "Thanks, Connie."
She winked. "Didn't figure you as the cream type, Chancey. Do you want the usual?"
I hesitated, but only to pretend I was thinking. "Double smash burger, fries. Maybe a slice of whatever pie's left."
"Blueberry. Last piece." She pointed the pencil,then scrawled on her pad. "Sherif X got the club and soup, but I'll let you pretend you're still a teenager. Back in a flash."
The second she retreated, Xavier dropped the spoon and fixed me dead-on. "What's going on up there at the house?"
Well, fuck. Might as well rip the Band-Aid.
I twisted the napkin ring until the paper nearly tore.
