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And, maybe, that’s a kindness on her part.
A promise that she will come back, at some point. Even if the black-and-white ball is only a week away and I don’t know whether or not she’s coming back for that, she wouldn’t leave her snake and friends with me forever.
It’s one thing to abandon a closet full of clothes.
Another entirely to abandon her…pet.
Forcing a deep breath into my lungs, I fight to focus.
I never do field work like scoping out a mark and dragging suspects in. My parents kept me isolated, at home, with their victims pre-packaged and enough busy work to keep me from bothering to reassess my life choices.
How much space does everyone I love need?
How long do I wait before I hunt them all down and drag them back and force them to at least give me some kind of closure?
I’m so…tired.
It’s hard to shake the feeling that this space is an ever expanding chasm that only I want to close.
Fluttering toward me, Bugsy trills, and I lower my gaze as he lands on my phone, peering at the outline of his reflection in the glass. He pecks at the screen. “Pretty bird,” he chirps. “Bugsy, Bugsy, Bugsy. Pretty bird.”
Hands clasped between my knees, I watch him and decide he possesses the final shreds of my sanity.
If anything happens to Bugsy, I’m done.
I will go insane.
“That’s not yours, Bugs,” I mutter as I get my phone out from under him.
He protests, jumping on top as I unlock the screen. I swipe to the last page, where Lily’s Garden is. I don’t know why I downloaded it. It is excessively boring. Painfully bright. Hopelessly simple.
I’ve made it to level three-twenty.
Bugsy tips his head into my field of view while I’m contemplating making it to level three-twenty-one.
I sigh. “I can see you’re very concerned for me.”
“Pretty bird.”
“The empathy is spilling from your feathers.”
Before Bugsy is able to provide me with some other deeply sympathetic comment, my bedroom door eases open. My heart jumps hard enough Bugsy darts for the safety of his cage—abandoning me to look straight at…Briar.
A vision of poison and starlight.
Mouth dry, my lips part, but all I can do is gape.
She’s wearing a shining black leather dress held up by the thinnest straps I’ve ever seen. It dips low between her breasts, a cross of more slim straps obscuring nothing. The hem stops a quarter of the way down her thighs, and more yawning holes held together only by yet another set of centimeter-thick straps rest at either hip.
“Rowan,” she states. “My eyes are up here.”
I force words out of the back of my throat. “I do have a grade school understanding of anatomy, Briar.”
She takes a step inside, closing the door behind her, and my stomach erupts with desire.
The way she…moves.
Holy f…
