We finish the drive in comfortable silence with what I feel is an appropriate amount of Lana Del Rey’s voice for a feature. Though, I look forward to introducing Lou toNorman Fucking Rockwell!when she’s a teenager.
“So, this is where August lives too?” the eleven-year-old asks, saddling up beside me as we walk up the driveway to the front of the house.
“Yep.” I unlock the front door, letting her enter ahead of me. She makes a slow circle in the entryway, studying the kitchen to our left and the living room and den to our right, before turning her head to me. “Is he home?”
“Nope,” I say, kicking off my shoes. “He’s at dinner with your parents.”
She hums, sounding disappointed. It makes me smile.
“Do you want to see our library?” I nod toward the den. “August and I both have a lot of books.”
“August reads?” She’s practically swooning at the revelation.
“I know.” I smirk. “Hot, right?”
Lou’s green eyes go wide, cheeks flushing to a shade almost as bright as her strawberry-blond hair. “I… I didn’t say that.”
“I know.” I shrug before heading into the den. “But it’s okay to have a crush on him. Your secret is safe with me. I get it.”
“I never said I had a crush on him!” she exclaims. The patter of her feet follows me before halting abruptly, and though I’m not looking at her, I can tell the moment the towering bookshelves come into her view.
When I turn around, I find her mouth dropped open, head thrown back as she takes in the floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowing with books, lining the entire oval-shaped room. I track her gaze as she circles the space, running her hands along the spines.
My eyes snag on the particular shelf August and I christened a few days ago, and the chair in the center of the room. I’m trying hard not to reimagine it with my niece standing right in front of me, but the delicious memory makes it incredibly difficult. Every memory with him in the last seventy-two hours flashes across my mind.
When we’re not working or sleeping, the two of us are fucking. And when we exhaust ourselves to the point of unconsciousness, we do so in each other’s arms. We haven’ttalked about where we stand or where we go from here. It feels more like a lifetime of pent-up pining, longing looks, and soul-crushing silence, all coming to a head at once.
The only time either of us feels alive is when our bodies are joined. We’re symbiotic in that way. Each of us a parasite, each of us a host too. Feeding off each other, starving when we’re apart.
“Are any of these books I can read?” Lou asks, snapping me from my thoughts. “Aunt Darby told me I can’t read any of your books.”
“I’ll give you all the good ones when you’re a little older.” I lean against the doorway, a smile creeping over my lips as she studies each book with rapt focus. “But there might be a couple that you’d like right now. August and I were about your age when we first started our book club.”
She turns to look at me. “You and August have a book club?”
“We used to when we were kids.”
I press off the door and walk to where she’s standing, tracing the shelves for any of the older copies of our favorite books. Sure enough, in the corner of the room on the very bottom shelf is a full series set ofPercy Jackson and the Olympians. I drop to my knees, pulling outThe Lightning Thief.
“Here.” I smile to myself, flipping through the pages as Lou sits down next to me. “Have you ever read this series?”
She shakes her head, taking the worn title from my outstretched hand. She flips through it, frowning. “Someone wrote all over this.”
“I did.” I laugh. Pointing to my annotations from over fifteen years ago, I add, “See, the neat handwriting belongs to August’s annotations. Those horrid scribbles are from me.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “This is August’s book?”
“It was mine, and then I gave it to him, and he added notes too.” I wink at her. “Maybe if you read it, he’ll want to sit downwith you and talk about it. He loved this series when he was young.”
Her brows shoot up, the freckles across her nose seeming to glow when she blushes. “Really?”
“Yep.” I laugh. “You read that first one, and let me know when you’re finished so I can bring you back here and get you the others. We’ll make sure August is home so you can tell him all your thoughts.”
“He makes me kind of nervous,” she murmurs.
“Oh, girl. He’s harmless, I promise.”
In reality, Augustus Hayes is the most dangerous predator to my heart and soul.
