Page 116 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

“Where you’re concerned, yeah.”

“That’s a little hard to believe.”

He stepped closer, bent down, and kissed me slow and deep, the kind of kiss that threatened to pull us both under. Then he forced himself back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

He shot Artemis one last suspicious look before heading for the door. The moment it closed behind him the house fell quiet.

Artemis padded across the comforter and settled against my hip like he had always belonged there. I scratched his ear and let myself sit in the warmth for another minute.

Then I reached for my laptop. The camera feeds blinked to life one by one.

John's Sunday patrol shift was almost predictable enough to trust. Three more weeks would confirm it, and by then State would be over. Until that race was behind me, I couldn't afford an injury.

Three weeks until John. I still had work to do.

Chapter 33: Trauma Can Block The Bond

The next week settled into a rhythm that somehow felt both peaceful and too fast. State was three Saturdays away, and Coach Miller refused to let anyone forget it. Between classes, training, my school project with Jackson, and surveillance, I ran on fumes.

I had just finished a martial arts session in the yard when I checked the time. One hour left before Jackson picked me up. We planned to finish the project at his place tonight, then sleep over and head to morning practice together.

Assuming we actually worked on the project.

Which felt optimistic, considering the last few times we'd "worked."

When I stepped inside, Artemis wound around my ankles in tight dramatic loops, meowing like he had not been fed in days.

“Yes, yes. Your suffering is unimaginable.”

I scooped him up and stroked his soft fur. He was now a completely different creature from the filthy gremlin I'd found. I'd washed him on his first night, and he'd treated the bath like an attempted murder. By the end, the floor was soaked, my clothes were soaked, my forearms carried three matching scratches, and Artemis looked like a furious wet rat.

I won. Barely.

Mira and Talia met him the next morning and fell in love before he finished his second bowl of tuna. Both fox shifters were instantly devoted. That pretty much guaranteed Artemis free rein of the house. He explored constantly, though most nights he still ended up in my room. Usually on my pillow. Sometimes directly on my face.

I scratched under his chin. He closed his eyes.

“I am leaving you tonight, you know.”

He blinked slowly.

An hour later, Jackson texted that he was outside. I shouldered my overnight bag, kissed the top of Artemis’s head, and walked out. Jackson leaned against the front of his SUV, hands in his jacket pockets, watching me come down the path.

He pushed off the car. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He leaned in and gave me a short, warm kiss in welcome before lifting the bag off my shoulder. He opened the back, dropped it inside, and shut the hatch, then opened the passenger door for me.

“You do not have to do that every time.”