“Besides,” he adds, “Lil Bit’s already decided she likes her.”
I huff out a breath that almost turns into a laugh.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I noticed.”
“Which means,” he goes on, “soon as you get your head out of your ass, that woman’s not going anywhere.”
That settles it.
Not really a choice.
Not anymore.
I push off the tank and roll my shoulders.
“Good,” I say, even though nothing about this feels simple.
Because the truth is I think I still need her.
I need her to stay here. At least, for a little while.
I need answers.
Need the truth.
And I’m not letting her walk away again without getting it.
Not this time.
I glance toward the house, the early morning light just starting to hit the roofline.
She’s in there.
Sleeping under my roof, in my bed.
For the first time in three years, she’s within reach.
“So, are you gonna tell her?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter in reply. “We’re gonna talk.”
One way or another—Esme and me?
We’re gonna hash this thing out.
I don’t think we have a choice.
I scrub a hand over my face and push off the tank, forcing my thoughts back where they belong.
Work.
Forward motion.
That’s how I’ve survived everything so far.
We’ve got another run coming up in a few days.
Big one.
