Like a whisper, his gentle nip against my ear is there one moment and gone the next.
“I can’t even get in the pool!” My frustrated shout follows Nash down the hall and into his office. “Stupid stitches.” I mumble to myself, the door closing on whatever reply he might have made.
Somewhere in the house, I swear I hear a faint, high-pitched meow.
The kitten.
Right. I forgot about him for all of five minutes. I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth until a little bundle of fur comes flying around the corner, red fluff sticking out in all directions and a mew trailing for a full thirty seconds. I pluck the little bugger up and hug him to my chest.
“Aw. Did you get lost in this big ole house? Let’s go find a sunny spot.”
Rather than spend all day inside and miserable, I decide to take a nap by the pool. The stitches are in my stomach, not my legs.
And a day relaxing? I can’t even remember the last time I took a full day off, let alone relaxing.
Even when I try, my brain doesn’t shut off. It just circles the same thoughts until they burn.
I strip down to my underwear—if I’m staying here, I have to buy a bathing suit—and sit right on the edge ofthe pool with my feet dangling in the water. The kitten, after dipping a testing paw rightabovethe water, circles a couple of times and lies down next to me. The tip of his tail drags in the water, but he doesn’t seem to notice or mind as he closes his eyes and begins to purr.
When the heat starts to press against my skin, I lay back and close my eyes. The events of the last few weeks start to filter through my mind.
First, my monthly check in with Joss where I finally asked him to look into the letters that I’ve been getting for years from Ash. Who was Ash, beyond a name in a letter? It was time I knew.
It was time I stopped trusting a ghost.
Then, maybe a week or so later, the picture was delivered to me at work that ultimately brought me to New Orleans.
I don’t believe in coincidences in the best of circumstances. This? These aren’t even remotely close to the best of circumstances.
Since I’ve been here, I’ve made zero progress finding Deacon, but I have been attacked and stabbed, prompting Shiloh to stitch me up.
My eyes snap open.
“Shiloh, you asshole.” I mutter to the pool, since the man in question isn’t here.
He used my real name last night.
Which I guess I should have realized they knew, seeing as how Shiloh had admitted to going through my bag and finding my DCPS paperwork.
I should have been more careful. Made it harder for them to get information on me. But to be fair, I didn’t exactly ask for them to pretty much kidnap me and refuse to let me leave the property.
I sigh. I told them pretty much everything yesterday, anyway. It doesn’t matter anymore.
“Time’s up, little wolf.” Nash appears at my side, forcing me to squint up at him in the sunlight. “You’re getting pink. You need to get some food in your stomach and something other than underwear on that delectable ass.”
“Please go away.” I shoo at him. “Everytime I turn around one of you is up in my business. It’s exhausting.”
He squats down so I don’t have to crane to stare up at him and cocks his head to the side. “It wouldn’t be so exhausting if you’d just give in to the inevitable.”
I snort. “The inevitable. I just want some freaking privacy.”
“No. You want to keep holding yourself back from us. Maintaining distance where there doesn’t need to be any. Believe it or not we just want to help you.”
Is that what I’m doing? Holding myself back?
Yes. From you. From all of you. From whatever this is trying to become.
His shrewd expression tears away at my nerves until there’s nothing left. “Absolutely.” I admit. “I don’t owe you or anyone else all of the parts of me. I don’t trust you. Or your merry band of men who appear to be doing their best to take over my life.”
