Reaper's Stand (Reapers MC, #4)(106)
I hesitated. I wanted things out in the open, wanted everyone to know London was my woman for real. Fuckin’ proud of her. But I understood, too.
“End of the summer, then? Only about two weeks left, sweetheart.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“How much longer you gonna stay in that tiny little cabin when I got a whole house just waitin’ for you?”
She gave a snort of frustration.
“The day Mellie moves out, I’m packin’ my shit. I’m losing my mind there.”
“What about Jessica?”
“She actually has plans, believe it not. I’m sort of torn about them. I want her with me . . . but I also know she won’t be happy out at your place. She isn’t ready to get back into life like that just yet. But I’m really proud of her for realizing she has to move forward, make her own decisions.”
“Really? What’s she gonna do with herself?”
“She’s moving in with Maggs Dwyer.”
“Bolt’s old lady?”
“No, Bolt’s ex,” she said firmly. “She’s pretty emphatic about that detail. She runs a program at the community center for special-needs children. Jess has been volunteering there for a couple of years, and she’s decided to enroll in the early-childhood education program down at the college. Maggs is giving her a part-time job and a room to rent. It’s perfect in a lot of ways.”
“Bolt won’t like that,” I mused. “He’s tryin’ to get back with her. Havin’ Jess around won’t make things easier.”
“Not Bolt’s decision.”
Fair enough.
“So two weeks and you’re all mine.”
She nodded, giving a yawn. “Assuming you still want me.”
“Fuck yeah, I want you.”
She made a happy little snuffling noise and we fell silent again. Another meteor streaked overhead. London’s breathing slowed as she drifted off.
Hey, babe, Heather whispered. Remember coming here together? Two little girls snuggled up between us, watching the stars shooting all night? You told them they were people riding up to heaven on rockets.
Yeah, I remember.
I remembered everything, although sometimes I wished I could erase those memories because they hurt so bad. Tonight, though? Tonight they were beautiful.
She’s good for you—this is what I wanted. Someday when Em and Kit have kids, you bring them up here for me, will you? Tell them Grandma Heather’s watching over them . . . Then tell them Grandma London’s gonna give ’em extra loves, because they’re such special kids they deserve double.
I swallowed. London stirred next to me, and I took in her scent. Clean and fresh, her hair still just a little damp from the river.
I’ll always miss you, I told Heather. But it’s time to let you go.
She didn’t answer.
Another star shot by in the darkness, and London raised her head.
“You okay, Reese?”
“I love you.”
Silence.
“You’ve never said that to me before.”
“Wasn’t ready. I’m ready now.”
“I love you, too.”
She settled back into my body, and I felt right in a way I’d almost forgotten existed. Darkness surrounded us, broken only by the meteor shower. I waited for Heather to say something. Nothing.
Now it was just London and me.
Felt good.
EPILOGUE
THIRTEEN MONTHS LATER
SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
PUCK
“Can’t decide—should I get drunk first and then get laid, or the other way around?”
“Shut the f*ck up,” Puck muttered, staring at the ceiling. He lay back on the top bunk, trying to ignore the annoying mouth breather he and Painter shared a cell with. At least they had a cell. Given how crowded the prison was, half the guys didn’t have any space of their own at all.
“Yeah, I’m gonna start with sex,” Fester continued, oblivious to the threat in Puck’s voice. The guy was a complete moron, but at least he was harmless. Over the past year, he and Painter had needed to fight off the cartel boys at least once a month. An annoying cell mate was better than getting shanked in your sleep. “There’s this chick I saw once who—”
“If you don’t shut the f*ck up right now, I’ll cut off your dick,” Puck muttered. Fester laughed, because they’d had this same conversation at least once a day for the past six months. But today they were in lockdown, which meant Puck couldn’t get away from the little shit.
Painter snorted in amusement across the room, because he knew exactly how much the man got on Puck’s nerves.
“How ’bout that girl of yours?” Fester asked Painter, shifting directions abruptly. “She have anything interesting to say? I always think about her in that blue sundress she was wearin’ in that one picture. You know, the one where her tits were sorta pokin’ through? I swear to f*ck, those were her nipples. They taste good? I’ll bet they taste good.”
Puck closed his eyes and shook his head. Fester had no f*ckin’ sense of self-preservation at all. Painter didn’t like questions about his girl. This was not new territory.
“You say one more word and I’ll kill you on the spot,” Painter replied, his voice like stone. “She’s not my girl and whatever you think you saw, you forget. You’re not good enough to look at her picture, *.”