Page 82 of The Devil’s Feather

“You are wonderful. I continue to be an inveterate shithead.” Rafael kissed my hand and started the car. “But I love you, and I want to be better for you. I will submit.”

“You might have the devil’s feather, but at least you’re my devil.”

“I am completely and utterly your devil.”

I woke up when we parked in the garage. Stress did that to me sometimes—hard reset for the brain via napping. God, I did not want to walk another step in heels. I rubbed the bottoms of my feet, considering the wisdom of walking barefoot across concrete.

Rafael leaned on the passenger door. “Shall I carry you?”

I held my arms out, and he gathered me from the car. Once I had the jewelry removed, my clothing tossed, and my face scrubbed, I fell into bed in my panties only. Fuck looking for PJ’s.

“Do you want me here?” Rafael asked from the doorway.

What a shame that he’d traded that delicious kilt for joggers.

I held my arms out again, and he settled into them. “I don’t like being alone when I’m upset. That’s when the bad thoughts catch me. Just squeeze my soul back into my body and tell me I’ll be ok.”

Rafael touched my face. “I have never groveled in my life, but I will if it means you forgive me.”

“Just hold me, please. Without clothes; I need to be close to you.”

I rolled on the bed as Rafael shifted his weight to grant my request. I snuggled into his embrace, tracing the scars like braille on his arm. If I learned how to read the language of his pain, surely together we’d translate all that rage into something healthier.

1 “Sympathetic Character” – Alanis Morissette

23

TWO VERY DIFFERENT PHONE CALLS

Atext from an unknown number lit up my screen. The buzz woke me all the way up. I’d been lazing in the big bed by myself for the last hour. Rafael was already off doing his Rafael thing; hints of cello playing drifted in. He’d left me with a kiss on the forehead and a murmured apology for disturbing me.

I rolled over to reach my phone. A single red rose and a no-longer-steaming latte rested beside it. He must be trying making up for last night.

The text read: Hey hon, this is Kathy. I heard things got hairy last night. Are you ok?

Followed by three lines of broken heart and praying hands emojis. She’d really meant what she said about being there for me. My lip quivered. People so rarely actually meant that. I saved her contact immediately.

Me: you are so sweet. im ok.

Kathy called me. I cringed like a true Millennial, but I answered the phone.

Her rough, loud, and yet somehow soothing smoker’s voice filled my ears. “Hey, this is Kathy. I heard Molly Lively started a ruckus again.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t deserve what Rafael said to her. That’s not ok.”

That murderous glint in Rafael’s eyes, the rage in his voice, his clenched fists… It was very different seeing him get so aggressive toward a woman versus when he’d clotheslined the guy who’d tripped me or beaten the ever-loving shit out of that Russian fighter. A group of hostile men was an actual threat, and Boris the bear had signed up for the beating. But a mean girl I could ignore.

If I’d been able to control my reaction to Molly’s goading, none of that confrontation would have happened. It wasn’t my fault. I knew it wasn’t, but the feeling lingered.

Kathy clucked her tongue. Fitting. All too easy to imagine her in the role of the protective Lady Kluck.

“Don’t you worry your cute little tuchus about her. Molly uses that pretty face to get away with murder, and we all know what kind of person she is. Serves her right.”

It didn’t completely erase the guilt, but it helped.

I sighed into the phone. “I just don’t want her to suffer, you know? Sticks and stones. But you know her way better than I do, so I trust your judgement.”

“I knew you were a sharp girl. I could see it in your eyes. Maybe a little too understanding for your own good, so be careful. Listen, you call me if things get hairy again, ok? Give the phone to Rafael if you have to. I’ve known him for a long time, and I’ll straighten him right out.