Page 336 of Property of Whiskey

“Woman, you’re asking for miracles.”

She almost smiles.

Then her expression changes. “And I need you alive.”

That catches me.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Bossy.”

“Learning from you.”

I look at her.

She takes another step until she’s close enough that I can see the faint swelling beneath the cut on her lip.

Then she gives me something I never thought Twila Dix would willingly hand over.

“You can protect me.”

Every muscle in my body locks. “That permission?”

Twila looks me dead in the eye. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Fuck me.

The woman just handed me trust like it ain’t the most dangerous thing in the room.

I start reaching for her, then catch myself before I touch.

She rolls her eyes. “You don’t need permission to touch my hand, Whiskey.”

“Getting mixed signals.” I take her hand.

“I protect.”

“Beside me.”

“Mostly.”

Her eyes narrow. “Whiskey.”

“Beside.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

Too late.

A small voice appears beside my elbow. “Why’s Twila’s mouth purple?”

Twila looks down.

Wren stands between us with crayons still clutched in one fist.