Page 85

“I won’t always have the ability to protect you. I need you to be able to do it yourself as well.”

I tap the knife at my side. “I’m more capable than you give me credit for.”

“I’m starting to see that too.” He drops his head so his lips are near my ear. “And I really, really like it.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

LYNX

One of the usual afternoon storms has blown in. Thunder is right overhead, and the rain is beating at the windows like it’s on a mission to break inside. The smell of bread is clogging the room as it cooks in the oven, and Sasha managed to pull off cooking it without a single accident or near accident, and only half of the flour ended up on the countertops.

He lets out an involuntary hiss as he stabs himself with the needle. Again.

“Why is sewing so dangerous?” he asks.

I deserve an award for not sighing. “It’s not. You just keep putting your finger in the way.” I’ve shown him countless times how to hold the button he’s sewing back on, but he keeps adjusting his hold, almost like he wants to stab himself.

With a pout, he holds up his finger to me. “Kiss it better?”

“That’s a myth.”

“It works though.”

“It does not.”

“Of course it does. You kiss it, and I feel better.”

I’m not willing to feed into these delusions, but when he touches his finger to my lips, instead of ignoring it like I should, I give in. Like I can’t help myself.

I wish I could ignore the way he lights up at that, but my body reacts against my will anyway.

He’s smiling as he goes back to sewing, and a few minutes later, he has the button secured and tied off.

“Not bad,” I tell him.

“Can you show me how to make something next?”

“No. Next is patching up existing clothes.” Still, his eagerness is cute. “Making clothes will come.”

“You and your patience,” he grumbles.

“Maybe I can teach you some of that too.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.” He smiles as a roll of thunder interrupts us. Under the table, Bob shifts so he’s lying over both of our feet. I need to have a word with him and remind him that he’s not domesticated, and he needs to stop acting like it.

Our lives have changed so much in the past few weeks.

I’m getting way too used to having Sasha in my space. I need to keep reminding myself that this is temporary, and I want it to be temporary. I’ve never had an issue with my solitude before, and I’d like that to continue. He will leave again, taking his air mattress and abundance of panties and plushies with him, and I need to be okay with that. Life will return to the peaceful normalcy, and Sasha will do … whatever he’s doing.

“Where will you go?” I ask. It’s still foreign to me to be curious about someone.

“What do you mean?”

“When you leave here. I assume if you’re not going back to Wayward, you must have somewhere else in mind.”

He nods, and I like the way his hair moves. “Portland. I have a friend there who I went to high school with. He’s going to help me get settled.”