Chapter 9
NINE
HUNG UP
“I dig you dig my hair, but the rest of me is feeling jealous,” I said to Knox, who seemed mesmerized by his fingers in my hair.
His attention shifted to me and his lips tipped up in that sexy, soft, intimate smile he gave me in times like these, post-sex, when we were just chilling in bed.
“It wraps around my fingers like it doesn’t want to let me go,” he explained.
No part of me ever wanted to let him go.
Yes, I just thought that, and we hadn’t been together for long, but it didn’t freak me out in the slightest.
Until I grew up and learned my only choice was to be who I was, how I was, including ending my love-hate relationship with my curly hair, I hadn’t really thought much about it, except putting in the work to make it look cute.
Now, I decided, I had the best hair that ever grew on a person’s head.
With my locks still wrapped around his fingers, he used them to stroke my jaw.
He did this murmuring, “Never in a million years would I think I’d have a funny, beautiful, smart curly-haired girl in my bed.”
I was no girl, and we’d thoroughly established that in this very bed not long ago.
But his words made me melt more into him, something that was easy to do from my position on top of his long body.
Even so, I gave him shit.
“It’s not fair you can be cute and hot and sweet all at once,” I complained.
“Sorry, baby,” he murmured, his lips still curled up. “Which one of those do you want me to focus on?”
“Hot, when we’re doing the business. Sweet after we’ve done the business. Cute, when you’re with Jacques.”
A soft woof from the end of the bed approved of this plan.
Knox’s smile got bigger.
“I’ll make note,” he said.
“Appreciate you.”
“You ready for sleep?”
I’d come hard, and it was late. I was seriously drowsy.
I nodded. “You?”
As answer, Knox lifted his head from the pillow, kissed my nose, then took me on the trip as he rolled to turn off the bedside light.
I slid off to his side, and he turned into me.
We snuggled. We entangled.
And homeless people might be missing, and all of that was bad, but the Angels and the Hottie Squad were on it.
And my sister might be pregnant with baby number three, without many means to take care of it, herself and her other two kids.
But in that moment, I fell asleep like I didn’t have a care in the world.
* * *
With practice, I wended my way through the jungle of plants my mom insisted we all plant as a family project when I was around the age of eight.
Plants that had grown wild and unruly in the ensuing nineteen years, and she had not made any effort to cut them back, only trim them so you could get to the front door without wielding a machete.
Once I accomplished this feat, I was at the front door.
I walked right through, shouting, “I’m here!” over the cacophony of dogs—some Mom’s and Dad’s, some fosters—as they raced in to greet me.
I bent to do head scratches, body rubs, but when one very familiar fur baby stood out in the mix, my back shot straight.
“I’m in the kitchen!” Mom yelled. “Take a load off. I’ll bring you some wine!”
Slowly, I walked into my parents’ diverse living room.
One thing you could say about Scott and Louise Nelson, they were all about diversity. In ideology. In politics. In learning.
Dream wasn’t a hippie-dippy vegan earth mother for nothing.
And I wasn’t a boho vigilante for the same reasons.
In other words, we apples did not fall far from their tree.
And the crazy-ass way Mom decorated that teetered precariously five steps down from hoarding, and had odes to the Southwest, which we lived in, was understandable.
However, these were juxtaposed with anything that took her fancy as she lived her life, from perusing flea markets to when she and Dad were traveling. Therefore, this included a variety of ethnic curios and mid-century modern and art deco vibes, and memories.
Right then, part of that diversity was Knox Chambers sitting on my parents’ couch with his bad leg stretched out in front of him.
I refused to allow it to penetrate that he looked rested, much more himself, and I absolutely refused to allow how comfortable he seemed lounged on my parents’ couch to process in my brain.
The dogs, including the one owned by me, came into the living room with me. But it was only Jacques who raced to Knox, jumped up and lay down beside him, tongue out, I Spent All Day with Uncle Knox! happy.
My sister was in the room too, as were her kids toddling around among the canines (except Harmony, who didn’t toddle yet, she was in a playpen).
Dream was sitting in an armchair, watching me.
When my accusatory eyes landed on her, she lifted both hands and said, “Don’t look at me.”
Mom bustled in with a glass of white and a big smile.
“There you are, petal.” She handed me the glass and gave me a kiss before saying, “We heard what happened to Knox, and I got worried about him being cooped up in his house all alone, so I asked him over for dinner. Your dad went to get him after work. We thought you could take him home.”
Fabulous.
Now I was also Knox’s Lyft.
She turned to Knox and oozed mom all over him. “It’s important, since you’re somewhat mobile, to change your environment. Cabin fever never did anyone’s recovery time any good, and everyone needs to get out and get some vitamin D. I’m so glad you agreed to come!”
After delivering that, she bustled out.
“I’ll just see if Mom needs any help,” Dream said, getting up and throwing over her shoulder, “Watch the kids, will you?”
Before I agreed, Dream disappeared.
I turned to Knox. “Are you serious right now?”
He grinned.
“No, seriously. Are you serious right now?” I demanded.
“Your mom called and asked me to dinner. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”
Right.
Why would he say no?
He was my friend. I was his friend. Mom and Dad were in our circle.
Friends went to dinner with friends, or at friends’ parents’ houses.
Right?
Right.
Shit.
“You could have texted me to say you were coming,” I said.
“Do you need a warning?” he teased.
I absolutely did.
Especially if teasing was involved.
I took a needed sip of wine and asked, “How are you doing?”
“Glad to be out of my fuckin’ house for a few hours.”
I bet he was.
I could chill out with the best of them, but even I’d be going stir crazy after three straight days stuck at home.
On this, Dad entered the room, came right to me, bussed my cheek and greeted, “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Dad. Does Mom need help in the kitchen?”
“She’s got me and now your sister. You keep Knox company,” Dad replied. He turned to Knox. “We’ll be eating in about ten minutes, son.”
“Awesome, Scott. Thanks,” Knox replied.
Dad headed out.
I sat in an armchair and kept my wine held high and safe from snuffling dogs even as I petted said snuffling dogs.
And I started it.
“So, I had an interesting chat with Byron today.”
His grin came back. “I know. Tex called Roam to see who won the pool. In case you’re interested, it was Shaw.”
“Do you boys have other pools on shit about the Angels?” I asked.
“As far as we know, there’s no one else in your sphere who has their eyes on the accounts of defense contractors, terrorist sympathizers, straight-up terrorists, autocrats and warmongers.”
Holy shit!
“So, no,” he concluded.
As I was dealing with this new revelation about Byron (though, I suspected as such, I just didn’t let my mind go there), Feather came to me and walloped my leg with a moist dog toy.
Gross.
I took it from her and said, “We don’t hit people, do we?”
She giggled her denial of this claim, then raced after a terrier.
I tossed the dog toy in a random direction and a labrador claimed it as it flew through the air.
“Is Byron badass?” I asked Knox.
“Byron is an accountant. In other words, that’s a big no. Did he agree to be your Brody?”
Brody was that computer whiz on payroll up in Denver.
“If I get him a date with Dream.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Serious?”
I nodded.
“Maybe there are some risks he’s willing to take,” Knox suggested.
“Maybe,” I allowed.
“Are you going to finesse that?”
“Can you assure me no unsavory detritus is going to infiltrate Byron’s life in a way that makes it dangerous to date him?”
“Life throws curve balls, baby,” he said quietly. “What I can say is, he’s a solid guy. He’s sharp as fuck. And he makes a small fortune doing what he does.”
Something to think on.
“Did you have a good day?” he asked.
“Outside learning about Byron, yeah.”
His head ticked. “Are you pissed about that?”
“You guys could have told us,” I pointed out.
“According to Byron, that’s need to know,” he replied. “Though, I encourage you to look at it in the sense that we knew you women would find out, and that was why we started a pool.”
I guessed that was complimentary.
Mom appeared in the doorway, eyes on me. “Time to strap down the kids. Can you help with that, smoochface?”
Smoochface.
Mom had a way with an endearment. I kept thinking she’d eventually run out of them, but she kept coming up with new ones.
Like smoochface.
I pushed out of my seat, saying, “Yeah.”
I noticed Knox getting up, thus I turned to him. “You are not hefting around children with a bad leg and bad shoulder.”
“None of them weigh even fifty pounds,” he retorted.
God!
He was driving me crazy.
“Are you going to backtalk me every single time I say something, that something being said trying to look out for you?” I returned.
He grinned even as he bent, scooped Feather up under his arm like she was a sack of flour, she squealed in delight, and he replied, “It’s more fun that way.”
Ugh.
I saved Harmony from the confines of the playpen, called to Dusk, and headed to the dining room.
Knox and Feather followed.
* * *
“Okay, so, your mom and me have made a decision,” Dad declared halfway into us scarfing down Mom’s scrumptious lentil pasta.
Great, so this wasn’t a let’s-just-spend-some-time-together family dinner.
Dad had an announcement.
Shit.
Dream and I looked to each other.