Page 24 of Crash’s Secret

Her door’s locked.

Good girl.

I knock twice, and her feet cross the floor, and the lock turns.

She cracks open the door. She’s still in the same T-shirt and shorts, hair flat on one side.

Her eyes roam over me, top to bottom—the dust on my jeans, the split knuckles, the scratch dried on my cheek. She grew up in this life. She does the math without a sound.

She steps aside and locks the door behind me.

“Is everything good?” she asks.

“Not really.” I’m not going to lie to her. “It’s bad, and your brother’s on his way home.”

She nods but doesn’t push for more information.

“But,” I say, sitting down on the edge of her bed and pulling at my bootlaces, “I’m still getting my morning after.”

She watches me work the second boot off, and the corner of her mouth gives her away.

“It’s four a.m. We didn’t spend the night together.”

“It’s after midnight. Still counts.”

“What if we get caught?” She grabs my hand, turning it over and examining it. “And you’re covered in dirt.”

“You’re stalling.” I squeeze her hand. “Saber probably won’t be home until late afternoon. And I’ll personally wash your sheets.”

She bites down on her lower lip, smiles, and then lies down to pull the blanket open. I lie down in my jeans with my gun on her nightstand, and she fits herself along my side, head on my shoulder, her hand flat over the middle of me like she’s checking I’m all in one piece.

I am. Thanks to Jinx.

I had a gun in my face tonight, and the only thing in my head was this. This exact thing.

The war is here.

And after that’s handled, there’s going to be a second war when I tell Saber I want to make Cassidy my Old Lady.

Tomorrow’s problems.

I pull her in tighter and stay.

CHAPTER 9

CASSIDY

The door hits the wall, and I’m awake.

Daylight. My room. Crash’s arm heavy across my waist, his gun on my nightstand, and my brother standing in the doorway with his key still in his hand.

Nobody moves. I look at the clock. It’s past lunchtime.

Saber’s eyes go from me, to Crash, to the boots by my bed, to the gun on the nightstand, and back to me.

He crosses the room in three steps, fists Crash’s shirt with both hands, and rips him off my bed.

“Whoa!” That’s all Crash gets out.