"It's too risky," she whispers. "We need to be more careful.Bothof us."
She's probably thinking about what she did with the car. It was a bit insane, but Atty did manage to make it look like it was stolen in a college prank gone wrong, so no harm done, really.
But I know she's right, though I don't like hearing it. If I had to guess, meeting Ambrose made things a little more realfor her.
He's not some faceless boogeyman anymore. He's flesh and blood, and she would've recognized the devil he hides beneath charm and a tailored suit.
"Okay," I whisper back, squeezing her tighter.
I can be careful.
For her, I think I can do anything.
"Could you talk until I fall asleep?" she asks sleepily.
"Mmm. What do you want me to talk about, Ro?"
"Anything. I want to hear your voice."
My chest squeezes.
Ro pats my leather jacket sitting atop the covers next to us. "Tell me where you got this."
I grin. "It was Julian's."
"Really?"
She snuggles in, finding a cozy spot with her head in the crook of my shoulder.
"Mmm." I keep my voice low, just above a whisper. "It was his favorite jacket. He was wearing it the first time I ever met him, but he almost always had it on. Said it was his lucky jacket and if he wasn't wearing it something could go wrong."
"I didn't think he'd be superstitious."
She yawns, her body growing heavier in my arms as sleep starts to claim her.
"Oh." I laugh quietly, remembering. "He wassosuperstitious."
I stroke her hair languidly, watching my tattooed fingers slip through the dark strands as her breaths even out and her lips part on a soft exhale as she falls asleep in my arms.
My grin falters, replaced with a grimace as I recall how the jacket started to look bigger and bigger on him.
"After Ambrose stole the Ashfords' collection," I continue even though I think she might be beyond hearing me. "…and Flo took a turn, Julian started to spiral."
My voice drops impossibly low, and I hold her tighter. "And by the time she passed, his lucky jacket didn't fit him anymore. He'd lost so much weight."
I clench my teeth against the rage that stings in my eyes.
"Before he started to really lose his touch with reality, he came to me. I still remember how he called me into the library and sat me down, pulling out his jacket, laying it over his lap. He stroked the old leather like it was something precious. He told me that his luck had run out, but that the jacket still had some life—some luck—in it for someone else."
My whisper grows thick and I swallow the ball in my throat, only to have it expand in my chest instead.
"I'd never gotten a gift like that before. This wasn't a new lockpicking set or an iPod or a really wicked blade…it belonged to him. And he wantedmeto have it. Not Elijah. Not Atticus.Me."
I take a shaky breath, then drop another kiss to her forehead.
"I miss him, Ro. Fuck, I miss him so much."
I’m not sure how long I stay like that, mind trapped in the past with my whole future in my arms, but I know I need to go.
