“You’re right,” I mutter. “If she hadn’t intervened, I would’ve lost.”
“I know you would’ve.” He sighs. “And even if I don’t understand it, I’m, uh, I’m happy for you two.”
“Thanks, man.” I look toward the base of the stairs. “Come on. Let’s get some rest.”
We make our way upstairs, being as quiet as possible, but stop short at the top. Roman’s hand is on Cobie’s door handle, the door cracked open a few inches. Is he checking on her? When her quiet snore reaches the hallway, Ford chuckles, offering a half-assed wave before he disappears into his room. Realizing he’s not alone anymore, Roman closes the door. He almost looks…guilty, though I have no idea why. “Just making sure everyone’s okay,” he mumbles. “Figured you had Vi.”
“I’ll check.” I sigh. “And thanks. For always looking out for her.” I tilt my head toward Cobie’s closed door.
Roman shrugs. “She’s family.”
“So are you,” I remind him, grateful he had my back tonight. That he had all our backs tonight.
With a nod of acknowledgement, Roman disappears into his room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Exhausted, I do the same, entering my room and shutting the door behind me. The bathroom light is still on. It paints the familiar lump on the mattress in a warm glow, and the organ in my chest skips a beat.
She’s here.
I knew she would be. But seeing the evidence lifts a weight from me I didn't even know was there until suddenly…it wasn’t. I missed her so much. And after everything that’s happened, all I want to do is hold her until morning. Actually, that’s a lie. I want to hold her a hell of a lot longer. Being as quiet as possible, I stripoff my clothes and toss them in the hamper. Thankfully, Doris is used to working with blood and should be able to get the stains out with ease. I should probably shower, too, but the idea alone is enough to sap the last of my energy.
Tomorrow. I’ll shower tomorrow.
Climbing into bed, I breathe in deep. Just like I thought it would, Violet’s familiar floral scent washes over me. It calms me in a way I can’t even explain.
Home.
I’m home.
“Mmm.” Her quiet, throaty hum is like music to my ears as she shifts toward me. Part of me wonders if she’s still asleep. If a small part of her knows it’s me on a subconscious level. Or maybe she’s awake. Maybe I roused her from slumber when the mattress dipped. I don’t really care either way. All that matters is she’s here. My Little Thief is here, and even if it takes the rest of my life to pay off the debt of keeping her, it’s worth it. She’s worth it.
Closing my eyes, I finally drift to sleep.
I’m not sure how long I’m out, but it’s clearly not enough. Groaning, I roll onto my side. My head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Scratch that. My entire body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. I can also feel my eye pulsating behind my lid, which, you know, isn’t great. Gingerly, I touch the swollen area and drop my hand back to the mattress.
Painkillers. I need painkillers.
With a deep breath, I force myself to a sitting position, then open my eyes. On the nightstand is a small plate of saltines loaded with peanut butter, two painkillers, and a tall glass ofwater. The view almost makes me smile, but I keep it in check, knowing it’ll only split open my lip again.
My sweet Little Thief. Oh, how the tables have turned.
I eat the crackers, and yes, they taste pretty freaking good, swallow the pills, then down the rest of the water and find a pair of sweats in my drawers. Once my junk is covered, I make my way downstairs. Slowly. And at the pace of a ninety-year-old man. Yeah, I’m going to be feeling the aftermath of last night for at least a couple more weeks. If I didn’t know my girl was waiting for me downstairs, I probably would’ve stayed in bed, but I miss her more than I thought possible, so I grit through the pain.
Laughter comes from the kitchen. When I round the corner, I pause, finding Cobie at the stove. She’s flipping pancakes while Violet twists around on one of the barstools with her phone in her hand.
“What about…this one?” Violet pushes play on her cell, and the first notes of a song ring out.
“‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ by Nirvana,” Cobie answers. “Come on. Pick a hard one.”
“I’ve tried!” Violet laughs. “You’re too good!”
“It’s her secret talent,” I interject. “Been obsessed with music since she was in the womb.”
Cobie rolls her eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”
“If Mom were here, she’d argue with you.”
Curious, Violet asks, “What would she say?”
“That it’s a very big deal,” I announce. “One of my mom’s favorite stories she used to tell was how Cobie would kick to the beat of any song that was on while she was pregnant with her.” I move forward, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate next to the stove. In a flash, the pancake flipper darts toward my hand, but I dodge it at the last second and toss the salty meat into my mouth.
