“Yes. You have a coffee addiction.”
“Says the man who has almost polished off a family pack of Oreos.” She snatches the box and takes one. “You’re supposed to share.”
My mouth is full. “I don't share.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she says, her mouth sounding equally full. “Okay, done.” She leans on my shoulders and holds out a hand mirror to show me. “See? Told you I could cut hair.”
I look almost like my old self. It’s weird. She turns the mirror to face her and grins, Oreos in her teeth.
“You are such a pig,” I say.
She laughs and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I’ve missed arguing with you.”
“That makes one of us.”
“Come on,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.
Ella drags me upstairs and into her room, closing the blinds and sitting me on the bed. She talks nonstop, telling me things I already know—what she’s been up to, how little she’s been writing, how she moved home and hasn’t been back to the apartment, how her friend Matilda is back.
“Oh,” I said. “She’s hot, by the way. Is she single?”
She punches my arm. “She lives in France.”
“And? I can get on board with a transatlantic booty call.”
Motor hops onto the bed, his breath hot in my face. I grin and wiggle his ears.
Ella watches me. “Will you stay here? For tonight?”
“That’s not smart.”
“Probably not,” she says. “But at least you know no one will look here.”
That is true. It takes hiding in plain sight to a whole new level. Even if someone had spotted me in the city or close to here, they’d never dream that I’d be under the chief’s roof.
And now I’m here, I don’t want to go.
“Do you want a shower?” she asks. “I can make you some food and get you a drink. I can make sandwiches, or there’s pasta, maybe something warm? And you can stay here.” She smiles and pats the bed. “We can talk.”
“God, I forgot how annoying you are.”
She smiles brightly. “How could you forget that?”
Chapter 25
Ella
This is the calmest I’ve felt since the day Asher died. I finally feel safe, and that makes no sense, but I hold onto it anyway. Gable showered and ate, and we’re lying on the bed, facing each other, quiet. Motor is sleeping between us, and I stroke his paw. Gable is looking at Motor, dark eyes shining, his hand moving across the dog's head.
It feels like having Asher back. Like Gable is a reminder that Asher existed. Because there have been times I thought none of it was real.
“Want to hear something silly?” I ask.
“From you? Not really.”
I scowl and hit him. “Ass.”
He sighs. “Tell me.”
