“I…I don’t know.” My voice falters. I should have some idea. Shouldn’t I?
Emi’s hug lasts longer. Almost like she knows that simple question is threatening to send me over the edge. “Then I’ll make you one of each so you can decide,” she says softly as she draws me toward a couch that looks like it could swallow a person whole.
Parker takes my arm for the last few steps, helping me sink into the cushions while Belle settles at my feet.
“The three of us have been gettin’ together for a couple of months,” she says over the sound of the cocktail shaker rattling from the kitchen. “When Jasper got hurt—shit, a little over a year ago now—he and AJ weren’t on speaking terms. But AJ asked me to check on Jas when he was in the hospital, and it was so damn obvious the two of them needed an intervention, I kept trying to make it happen. I met Emi not long after she and Jasper got together.”
“And Isabel?” Despite joining the group chat and starting to get to know these women, I never asked how they knew each other.
“Hardison and I were on the night shift protecting Isabel and her daughter after Veronica stumbled onto a drug ring while reporting for her school newspaper. Veronica’s at her bestie’s house tonight. You’ll meet her soon. She’s a good kid. Eighteen. Full of sass, smart as fuck, and twice as stubborn.”
“Drinks are served!” Emi calls, practically waltzing in from the kitchen with a tray of glasses rimmed with salt. “Parker, the virgin one is on the right.”
Isabel follows and presses a warm bowl into my hands. Steam rises from the surface, carrying the delicious scent of melted cheese and peppers.
“Careful, it’s not for the faint of heart. But that’s where the margaritas come in,” Isabel says with a little chuckle.
“Spicy is…pretty much all I can eat,” I admit, scooping up some of the cheesy goodness with a tortilla chip. Heat blooms across my tongue, sharp and comforting at the same time. “Oh my God. Okay, I might never leave.”
“See? I knew the queso would hook her,” Emi says as she sinks down next to me. “It’s my grandma’s recipe. She said it was how she convinced my grandpa to marry her. Works every time.” The women all laugh, and I surprise myself by joining in.
Isabel clinks her glass lightly against mine. “You’re safe here, Grace. We’ve got cameras, locks, and enough carbs to keep us fortified for weeks. All you have to do is relax. And hopefully have some fun.”
Relax. Have some fun. But one word sticks in my heart. Hope. I hope my memories return. I hope these new friendships can help. I hope one day, I don’t feel so broken.
As Emi, Isabel, and Parker argue over what movie we should watch tonight, I take a bite of queso and smile as another broken piece of my life begins to mend.
AJ
I’m unloading all the shit I picked up at the local DIY Warehouse when Jasper pulls in next to me.
Sliding out from behind the wheel, his lips tighten in a brief flash of pain before he leans in and snags a six-pack of Shiner. “Paint, drop cloths, lumber? Should I be worried?”
“You see any duct tape or shovels? We ain’t buryin’ a body. Put the beer in the fridge and help me get this stuff inside.”
He ambles off, his gait uneven, muttering something about my lack of polite conversation skills.
Connor shows up, toolbox in hand, as Jasper hauls the last two paint cans down the hall. “I thought you said there’d be pizza. I don’t smell pepperoni.”
“You’ve gotta earn it,” I shoot back. Then, because I probably shouldn’t piss him off when we only have four hours to get all this shit done, I add, “It’s on the way. Grab a beer.”
Before I can shut the door, a dark blue sedan pulls up. “Goddamn. He actually came.”
Hardison stares at the house like it’s about to bite him. For a full minute, he doesn’t move from behind the wheel. But eventually, he notices me leaning against the door jamb.
I slide my gaze from him to my watch and back again. That gets him moving. He gets out, shoulders hunched and hands jammed in his jacket pockets.
“You call this ‘on time’?” I ask.
He shrugs one shoulder, his gaze darting back to his car for a beat. “Figured you added me to that thread by mistake. But, I decided showing up and getting the door slammed in my face was better than a write-up for insubordination.”
Well, fuck.
The vulnerability in his voice is so out of character, if it weren’t for his body language, I’d think he was playing me.
“No mistake. You already got your hands dirty by installing that trojan on Harris’s computer. Paint is the perfect companion to clandestine operations. Get your ass inside. There’s beer. Pizza’s on the way.”
He eyes me for another few seconds, then heads into the house. Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder, he adds, “Painting isn’t messy if you do it right.”
