Chapter 21 Liar #2
“Thanks for everything,” I whispered, my own voice choked and emotional.
“Thanks for saving me, and helping Nix. I loved my dad, you know? But I love you too.” I was crying in earnest, remembering my daddy who had died trying to save me.
Even if he did kidnap me, he’d loved me so much.
Finally, slowly, hesitantly, Flowers put his arms around me and exhaled a breath he’d been holding for a thousand years.
“I’m sorry I left you there to be attacked, putting you in danger.”
I let him go, and frowned at him. “It’s not the danger I mind as much as the fact that I became part of the thing I hate. I hate violence. I hate pain and inflicting death on those people was…I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”
His face went pale. “I’m truly sorry. But I needed to expose you to those less dangerous so that when you finally confront someone truly deadly, like that DuPre who stalks you, you’ll be prepared.”
I stared at him. He really didn’t know. I patted his shoulder. “That makes sense. So…Did you really put flowers on the graves of the people you killed?”
He was quiet for a moment, looking like a statue of guilt. “Yes.”
“Then maybe I should call you something other than Flowers. What would you like me to call you? I guess I could go straight to daddy, but that might make you uncomfortable.”
He looked up at me, his eyes burning with emotion. “I’m comfortable being uncomfortable.”
I beamed at him. “Same! You really want Sunday dinners with me and Nix? I make the best peach pie.”
He hesitated then nodded. “Unless you find the idea disagreeable.”
“Well, Aunt Willie might break your nose from time to time. I hope you’re a stoic.”
He gave me a slight smile. “There are definitely some strains of stoicism in my makeup. It won’t bother me at all to have Aunt Willie break my nose, as long as you don’t mind me lecturing her about her life choices.”
I squeezed his hands, feeling like reality was starting to settle in and look positively dreamy. Finally, revenge for all of her lectures I had to listen to. “Not at all. I guess I’d better get back to Nix.”
He slowly nodded while his hands gripped mine too tight for an extra beat. His eyes were intent, sincere, as he said, “I love you, Sunshine. If you ever need anything, I would be honored to help you with it.”
I couldn’t help but give him another hug. He smelled like the wind and arnica for bruising. I squeezed him tighter because he was clearly one of those people who needed pain or he wouldn’t get into so many fights. Maybe I’d have to lecture him too. But not tonight.
I pulled away and turned towards the fire because I was starting to worry about Nix. What if he couldn’t find matching flannel shirts, and then he realized that we were married and I wasn’t dying, so it was forever, and he had a panic attack and ran off into the desert without a canteen?
I hadn’t taken three steps into the darkness when someone swooped me up, tucking me against his chest and carried me towards a trailer.
For people, not horses. The big strong arms weren’t Nix-shaped, but close.
And the way he touched me was as inflexible as iron.
“Beastie, what are you doing?” I demanded, kicking my feet.
“I’m in charge of bringing you to clothing.”
I pinched his nose. “I’m more than capable of walking.”
“I know. Because you’re cured. Thanks to my meddling.” A flash of his teeth in the largest smile he’d ever made was visible even in the darkness.
I pinched his nose again, twisting it in case it was broken. “It’s kind of sad. It’ll completely mess up our text thread. No more zombie emojis.”
“Sad. Yeah.” He squeezed me so tight, I couldn’t breathe, and for a second I wondered if he was going to kill me, just go all anaconda on me until my head popped off, but then he dropped me, and I barely kept on my feet.
The handsome blonde man gestured towards the trailer, as pretentious as a socialite.
“Your flannel awaits. You should hurry.”
I scowled at him. “Your sentimentality lacks all sentiment.”
“You want sentiment?” He was suddenly in my face, blue eyes burning at me with twice the intensity anyone sane should have.
“If you need anyone killed, I’m the one who does it.
” He jabbed my chest plate right between the eyes of my smiley face.
“If you have someone else kill someone, it’ll really hurt my feelings. ”
I shoved him back. “Too bad you weren’t there tonight when I killed DuPre.”
He froze completely solid while he stared at me. “You killed DuPre,” he said slowly, like it was the ultimate betrayal.
I crossed my arms. “If it makes you feel better, you were right there with me. Remember that time you taught me how to stab someone with a pencil? Me too.”
He grabbed my shoulders and stared at me, too close, too creepy. “Don’t tell Nix that you killed DuPre. He will freak out.”
“What’s he going to do about it? Kill him again? He’s already dead.” I grabbed him and pressed my face against his chest while my whole body kind of squeezed and dumped out all the weird emotions that had been building and building.
I sobbed because everything was so wonderful, and terrible, and confusing.
Nix could kill people with his mind. My bestie was some assassin that mowed people.
I was a person who could kill with a pencil or whatever else was lying around.
I was a killer. What was I supposed to do with myself now?
Who was I? I wasn’t dying. I had a whole lifetime of mistakes that I could make, that I would make.
And they’d have long-term consequences that I couldn’t see. But Beastie could.
“Promise you won’t let me turn into a psycho killer,” I whispered, gripping him tight.
He slowly patted my back. “Touching you is so weird. Even in the super suit you should be bruising. Weird. I promise. Like I said, I do all the killing.”
I punched his stomach and glared at him. “You’re an idiot.”
He raised a brow and smirked. “Who saved your life. Unless I’m wrong, that makes me a hero.”
“An idiot hero.”
“All heroes are idiots. That’s in the job title.” He gave me another grin and then turned and walked away, all cocky. He’d really saved me. I guess that did make him a hero. Weird.
I climbed the steps of the trailer, went inside, and there was my husband, without a shirt.
“Daniel found you. Good,” he said, glancing up at me with a sultry edge to the calculated supervillain. His chest was…
I stared until he pulled on a flannel shirt and then rolled up the sleeves. I cleared my throat. “Do you have a matching one for me? I don’t actually know how to get out of the super suit.”
He smiled slowly. “Do you want me to help you?”
I blushed hard, like I wasn’t a happily married woman. “Um. Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”
He stepped close and then his hands were cupping my face and he stepped close to kiss me. Soft, sweet, slow, before he pulled back and then said, “Jezebel, if you start pounding on that door, I’m going to skip the campfire scene altogether.”
Her voice came from outside, muted, but still clearly annoyed. “The sponsors won’t like that. Whose paycheck would that come out of? Most importantly, Pinkie will kill you. Or actually probably refuse to do your paperwork out of hurt feelings.”
I whirled around and brushed my hair aside. “We’ll be right there, Jezzy,” I called out. “Nix, would you do the honors?”
He sighed and unzipped me, helping me out of my suit so I was in nothing much, just underthings.
His hand on my skin was as right as ever, as painless, every featherlight caress deliciously pleasant, but we weren’t here for flirtation.
He had a team, and I wanted to be part of it, not take him away from them.
I dressed quickly in the jeans and flannel top, then when I turned around, his shirt was mostly buttoned and his sleeves were rolled up enough to showcase his excellent forearms. I held out my arm to him. “Mr. Death-Hammer, would you accompany me to the campfire scene?”
His smile was melting butter. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Death-Hammer.”
I loved, loved, loved my husband calling me that.
I smiled at him all shivery as he slipped outside ahead of me and then picked me up by the waist, swinging me around and setting me down so we could once more walk towards the campfire.
I squeezed him tight because everything felt too surreal, like it was all going to vanish away into a hospital scene with my organs still melting.
“Is it real?” I asked as we neared the flickering fire where Pinkie was teaching Trixie to strum a few chords, a look of intense concentration on both of their faces.
He pulled me around to face him and brushed his strong hands over my shoulders. His eyes were intent, soft pools of emotions. “We’re real. I’ll love you forever whether your health lasts or not. Like heaven is real because you’re an angel come to save me.”
I slowly rose on my tiptoes with a pounding heart to press a kiss to his lips. He was here. So was I. Maybe it wouldn’t last forever, but I had now, and maybe a few more decades if something unexpected wasn’t thrown at us.
I pulled back and blurted out, “I want kids. And a dog. And Taco, of course.” I probably should save these kinds of confessions for when we were alone together.
His brows raised. “Okay. Taco the cat or taco the food?”
“Both. Also kids. I lied about not wanting kids. I lied about a lot of things.”
He snuggled me back under his chin and kept going towards the fire. “I also lied about a lot of things. That I’d let you go is probably the biggest one. If we have kids together, you’ll be less likely to have time for an affair with Daniel. Sounds like a good plan.”
I tried to pull away so he could see my face of horror at the idea of carrying on with my bestie, but he kept me close. “I’m not having an affair with Daniel. I’d go to hell for sure.”