Fuck. What had we done? Hating each other one minute. Then somehow, in the blink of an eye, we’d ended up here. But I guess that’s why we fought each other so hard at the beginning.
Our spirits had known the danger the other posed.
I hesitated.
Warred.
Unsure of what I should tell her.
What I could let her in on.
I refused to burden her with the full truth of who I was, but I knew that I could trust her fully.
And it was time to stop keeping her completely in the dark.
Unaware and unprepared.
I needed her to know that this was coming up on a quick dead end.
“It goes down three nights from now.” Every word was gravel.
Brinley bowed, hands curling into the edge of the counter as she faced away.
Breaths shallow as she dealt with what should have been a boatload of relief yet so clearly hit her with the force of a sledgehammer.
Both of us were fully aware of exactly what that statement meant.
I wavered, trying to work up to the words, lips so fucking dry I could barely force them out.
“Think it would be best if we packed your things and took you back to your room above the club. Mission is going to be precarious, and I’m going to need to be at one hundred percent. Can’t afford distractions right now.”
It was such bullshit.
A pathetic excuse.
Brinley made a strangled sound, and she began to respond, only she clipped off when little feet suddenly pattered into the kitchen.
Kai ambled his way around me and went directly for her, thumb in his mouth as he dragged his blanket behind him.
“Kaimewk? Go nigh-night?” He pointed at the stash of bottles that sat in a basket next to the fridge.
“Are you tired, sweet boy?” Brinley’s words were strained with emotion. Soft and saturated with affection.
“Itie-werd.” He bobbed his sweet head.
Her hands shook as she grabbed a bottle and dipped into the refrigerator before she reemerged with a gallon of milk.
“I know he uses the bottle to soothe himself,” she started to ramble. “But we’re going to have to wean him from it soon and figure something else out that makes him feel safe. Milk isn’t good for his teeth at night.”
Every word shook.
An avalanche of pain as Brinley fumbled over the words, choking when she gasped, “I mean, you all will have to ween him soon.”
Milk sloshed onto the counter as she tried to pour it into a bottle.
Energy whipped through the air. Striking against my spirit.
Lashes of anguish and affliction.
