“Not really.”
“Why did you reach for your gun then?”
“I always sleep with a gun under my pillow.” And three knives in my nightstand.
“That’s not safe. Or comfortable. Surely?”
I tilted my head on said pillow. “Your brothers work hard to keep you out of the life, don’t they?”
“You answer questions with questions.” I could hear her pout. “They fail a lot of the time. Mostly, we choose to stay out of it. There was a… situation with our sister-in-law. We backed away from… things. Tried to be normal. It didn’t always work. I focused on my career. On advancing. Became a physician assistant.” Her arms clutched at me. “My vocation is to heal, not to hurt.”
That it sounded like she was telling herself that, and not me, had me prodding the wound: “What kind of situation?”
“It doesn’t matter. The person, well, they’re dead. The dead don’t trouble you. They break your fucking heart.” Kitty froze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine. We’ve both lost a lot of people. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Don’t be. And Belle’s happy the fucker’s dead too. I didn’t even mean him. I meant in general. You know?”
“Yeah. I get it.” I curved my arm around her shoulders while propping my head up on the other one. When she snuggled into my side, I tried not to think about how I wanted to fall asleep like this for the rest of my life.
I didn’t give a fuck if it made me a simp.
What was the point of living if you didn’t feel this? If you couldn’t experiencethis?
“Would you have shot me?”
I jolted at the soft question. “You don’t scent of pot and beer. So no. But if you’d been a biker, fuck yes.”
She snorted. “Shoot first, ask questions later? Like Miguel?”
“Where your safety is concerned, yes.”
“Doubt Wolfe or the others would like you for that.”
“They have a daughter and an Old Lady. They know that defending your woman, your family, is what matters most.”
Her nails dug into my abs. Not maliciously, but like a cat extending her claws. Her version of making biscuits… perhaps? “You think they’d hurt us?”
“I think some of them are very high and very drunk right now.”
“Doesn’t mean they’re rapists.”
“No. But I’d still shoot first.”
She hummed and her breath brushed across my pec. “You bingeeat, don’t you?”
“My family would say I don’t eat enough. Why?”
“You had two pizzas for dinner?—”
“Shit. Yeah. I did.”
“You fugue ate, huh?”
I chuckled. “I was more worried about Neev. I hoped she’d be in too much of a food coma to sneak out.”
Kitty snickered then hugged me harder. “Thanks for caring, Stan.”
