Page 162 of Hostile Saint

There were more pics. Me sticking out my tongue. Loving Elle’s affection at the rental… but what almost took me to my knees was my actual spoon.

“Noble!” practically cheered Lace when seeing it.

Hung on the wall, it was in a glass box.

The spoon itself had Dangerous Weapon burned into it.

The plaque above the case, read:

Break in case of emergency

Inspected by: Spoon Bandit.

Lace turned and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Your friends are wonderful.”

I tucked hair behind her ear. “They are. And they’re your friends, too.”

“Sugar,” demanded my wife, smiling and appearing so at ease.

My lips pressed to hers.

So touched by this incredible welcoming that had my wife smiling instead of in a state of fear like she had just been in, I looked over my shoulder. “Who did this wall?”

Elle radiated. “Sapphire.”

“What?” Lynx barked down the hall. “Saph!”

That young woman I had seen on Elle’s phone came bouncing into the room with a skip—the one that drove Justice nuts. “Yes?”

Lynx pointed at the wall. “This was you?”

Her shoulders caved and her expression filled with worry. “Yes. Uh, it’s just… Well, Elle was so happy with every picture sent to her…” She nervously shrugged. “I thought, why not share such memories?”

Lynx stared at her… then lifted his hand. “High five. Amazing idea.”

The little one perked up and smacked his hand. “Thanks! I didn’t do the spoon, though. That was sent in from the Colorado chapter.”

Jesus. H. Christ.

Such an honor.

Sometimes, happy moments have to be balanced with sad ones. There was no way Lacey nor I were going to move on unscathed, but we had support and a chance now. Something we never had before.

Shocking no one who knew our story, I wasn’t the only one who ever woke with night terrors. A couple of nights later, I was desperate for a way to calm her. Then it dawned on me.

Sneaking into the hallway, I wasn’t surprised to see Lynx, Dagger, and Vice in boxers and with guns, making sure we were okay, but they scattered. They claimed they were only trying to give her privacy when she was upset, but I knew better. The sight of Lacey in pain was too much for them.

Such an honor.

At 3:30 am, when holding Lacey’s hand, I led her into the commercial kitchen.

Click! Click! Click went Charlie’s nails, following us.

To keep Lacey calmer, I didn’t turn on all the bright lights. Just enough so we could see. Then, right next to the fancy blender, I sat Lacey on the counter. “Wait here.”

She was sniffling, still shaky from the night terror. Not even the long-sleeved and pants pajamas or little pink throw blanket Elle had given her could warm that chill.

From the industrial freezer, I pulled out every flavor of ice-cream I could find. With my arms full, I went back to my girl.