Chapter 4
FOUR
CLUELESS
It was after the whole confrontation with Jessie, when we found out about her brother, and then we found Eric in her apartment, the two of them, to our shock, enjoying a cozy Thanksgiving.
It was also after precisely five flirty texts, this being after a number of flirty looks and a few flirty chats before and after Thanksgiving dinner at my mom and dad’s.
That was when there was a knock on my door.
Late.
I knew who it was, and I couldn’t stop smiling to myself.
I opened the door, and Knox stood there.
“We doin’ this?” he asked.
So damned cocky.
And hot as all hell.
“We are so doing this,” I replied.
He came in, his arm rounding me, totally all the way up in my space, all the while his head angled down.
Mine tipped back.
He kicked the door closed with his foot.
And it was on.
* * *
My phone buzzing with a call took my mind off my memories, thankfully.
When I looked at the screen, I was less thankful.
Brady.
I had one kid down (Harmony, and by “down” I meant she’d had her bottle and was asleep), and two kids Dream had informed me she was going to read to before bedtime, but they were in their PJs, using the last dregs of energy to bang on stuff, pick it up and toddle around with it only to drop it, and try to get the very minimal things lying around that they weren’t allowed to have (that last was their favorite activity).
I needed to stop being a wuss, talk to Brady, admit we’d effed up and move on so he could ask Gemma out and I could stop being my own version of Cheyenne, not letting go of a guy who let me go.
Bonus, Dream would be home soon, so I had an excuse for not being able to talk long.
I offered Feather an old remote Dad gave Dream for the kids to play with, she turned her nose up at it, reached for the real remote she could not have (my niece was showing early signs of genius, she was already multi-tasking), all while Dusk shouted “Mote! Mote!” as I took Brady’s call.
“Hey, Brady.”
“You good?” he asked.
He was really such a nice guy.
“Yeah.”
“The way you left the hospital, Loon…” He didn’t finish that.
“It was just…the same old thing,” I explained lamely.
“We need to talk.”
“We’re talking, but I have to warn you, I don’t have a lot of time. I’m babysitting for Dream, and she’s going to be back soon. I popped by Knox’s on the way here, and I need to go to the grocery store and pop back on the way back home.”
“You popped by Knox’s?”
“I had a few things to say about him going into that sitch by himself.”
“Damn straight,” he muttered.
“Then I saw that Cap dropped him off without any creature comforts so I’m sorting that out for him.”
He was silent.
“Brady?” I called.
“Again, we need to talk, babe.”
“And we’re talking, aren’t we?”
“Doesn’t sound like you have a lot of time, or a lot of attention,”—yes, Dusk was still shouting “Mote! Mote!”—“and we need both.”
Fantastic.
“Can you do dinner tomorrow?” I queried.
“Sure.”
“Okay, we’ll do that.”
“Right. Got somewhere you’re dying to go?”
“Not really.”
“The Porch. Six.”
Of course he’d pick a sports bar.
Fortunately, he picked a good one.
I could hear Dream’s car in the drive, perfect timing.
“I’ll see you there. And Dream’s home so I gotta do the handover.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Later, Brady.”
“Later, Loon.”
We rang off.
Dream came in looking, well…dreamy.
Shit, maybe that Reiki crap worked.
“Hey,” I greeted as the kids raced (or Dusk raced, Feather waddled, fell down and got up) to her crying, “Mommy!”
“How were they?” She did not greet me, but she did bend to scoop up both her kids in a move I’d seen many times before, I was still impressed.
“Harmony’s asleep. Dusk and Feather, as you can see, are ready for Momma to read a book and bedtime. How was Reiki?”
“Good,” she mumbled between planting kisses back and forth on the tops of their heads.
Dusk was trying to push her away with an ornery expression on his face.
Feather was giggling.
“So,” I began, “this is the gig. You do Reiki every Monday, either Mom or Dad, both of them or I come and look after the kiddos.”
She put the kids down and narrowed her eyes at me.
“Or, if that’s too much, every other week,” I went on.
“I’m not your charity case.”
“Sister, it’s two hours on a Monday night,” I pointed out.
“Every other week, I can go on my own because my babies are with their dads.”
Oh yeah.
Right.
“So, why don’t you?” I asked.
“Because I’m saving to buy a house, all right?” she snapped, like we hadn’t been conversing for about a minute and a half, but instead, I’d spent the last eight hours working her last nerve.
But…wow.
No wonder she was working so hard.
I smiled at her. “That’s so cool.”
She rolled her eyes and replied, “You can go now.”
Well, she did warn me she wasn’t going to thank me.
Whatever.
Time to instigate part two of my We’re Gonna Be Functional Sisters if It Kills Me, Dammit Plan.
“I went to see Knox before I came here.”
She arrested and her eyes got big. “What?”
“I stopped ’round to see him. He’d gone in without backup in whatever went down Thursday night.
I wanted to ream his ass. I ended up arranging things so he could be comfortable and have food, then screaming in his face before I escaped, but I have to go back and bring more food and put away the food I ordered to be delivered. ”
She stared at me.
“Yes,” I answered her unasked question. “I need my head examined.”
“I’m not sure,” she mumbled, wandering into the kitchen.
Wait?
What?
I got up from the floor where I’d been playing with the kids and followed her.
“You’re not sure about what?” I asked as she poured milk into Feather’s bottle.
“You know, I didn’t know you were doing all that vigilante stuff,” she said to the bottle.
Yeah, I’d outed myself (not to mention all of the Angels) with that through sobs and sniffles. This was right before I got a handle on it enough to make her pinkie promise never to tell Mom and Dad. She thought the pinkie promise was stupid and told me so.
She still pinkie promised, probably because she knew Mom and Dad would lose their minds if they ever learned about the Angels.
“And he has a point about you not doing it,” she concluded.
“Say what?” My voice was pitched high because…this was Dream.
Dream detested toxic masculinity. Dream thought marriage was an anchor on women. Dream thought women should rule the world (I was with her on that one). Dream would probably forgive you for murder before she’d forgive you for being a chauvinist pig.
She turned to me. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it. I’m saying he had a point about being the man in your life and not wanting you to do it.”
“He gave me an ultimatum,” I reminded her. “Him or the Angels.”
“Yeah, that was a dick move,” she said coming toward me.
This time, I got out of her way.
She scooped up Feather as she made her way to an armchair.
She settled in with her girl and offered the bottle.
Feather put her sweet little hands on it, gazed up lovingly at her momma and started sucking.
“I’m not sure I get you,” I said. “Are you saying I should have picked Knox? Or are you just saying I shouldn’t be an Angel?”
She studied me, and she did it very closely.
What she didn’t do was answer.
“Well?” I pushed.
“You want my opinion?” she asked quietly.
Well…
Um…
Damn.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever asked Dream’s opinion on anything.
Was that part of her damage?
“Yes, I want your opinion,” I replied.
“Okay then,” she launched right in. “I think it was a toxic asshole move to give you an ultimatum. You’d been together two weeks.
That wasn’t his place then, and arguably never would be.
Though, just sayin’, if you two had more time in, had built your foundation, were looking at a future together, then I’d hope you’d both discuss important stuff like that and understand your partner’s position on it. Definitely take it into account.”
Two huge things were happening to me all at once.
First, I was thinking my flakey, hippie-dippy big sister might be wise, and somehow, I’d missed that.
Second, I was inwardly squirming because she was right about big things like, oh, I don’t know…
me putting my untrained, inexperienced ass on the line going after human traffickers and drug gangs, and my partner maybe not being at one with it, but even so, having that discussion like two grown-ass adults and figuring it out.
“Luna,” she called, and I focused on her.
“You didn’t have that time in. Knox throwing an ultimatum at you and forcing you to make a decision in the moment, not even giving you a day to think about it, time for you both to cool off so you could have a calm conversation about it, was not okay.
At all. If that’s the kind of guy he is, then pardon the metaphor at this juncture, but you dodged a bullet. ”
“Right,” I whispered.
It took a second, it appeared she was winding herself up for something, then she asked, “Why are you looking after him?”
“He’s my friend.”
“You’re in love with him.”
Mm-hmm.
I’d outed myself on that too.
I did my shrug thing again.
It again didn’t land.
“You’re hurting yourself doing this.”
Now it was me winding myself up for something, then I admitted, “I can’t seem to stop myself.”
She shook her head like I was beyond hope.
Okeydokey.
Sister chat over, and it didn’t go too badly.
Time to move on.
“You want my help getting them down?”
She looked at Feather, her face got soft and so pretty, it was crazy.
Then she said, “I just got them back last night. I wanna do it.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
And since I had grocery shopping to do and another visit to Knox, not to mention Jacques’s nighttime stroll, and it was after seven thirty, I needed to get on with it.
So I instituted part three of my We’re Gonna Be Functional Sisters if It Kills Me, Dammit Plan.
“Text me when you have a post office drop to do. I’ll come by after work and pick up the packages.”