Own the Wind(80)

“I love him,” I whispered, and his eyes lit immediately as he smiled.

“Then that’s what it’s gonna be.”

I sighed.

Dad pulled my head to his, tipping it down and he kissed the top of my hair. Then he let me go, turned to the bartender and ordered us another round of beers.

I guessed that was that, that was how it was going to be, and I knew my guess was right.

Dad was not dumb.

I made my choice and that was how it was going to be, and sitting next to Dad I realized, really, after the shock wore off, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

* * *

Two hours later, I walked into my apartment to see Shy on his back on the couch, one leg bent, bare foot in the seat, the other leg to the side of the couch so his foot was resting on the floor.

His head was turned, eyes on me.

I walked to the back of the armchair and threw my purse on the seat.

“Come here, Tabby,” he ordered gently.

I went there.

When I got close, he grabbed my hand, pulled me closer, so I put a knee on the couch between his legs, moved in and settled on him, hips between his legs, chest to chest, cheek to shoulder.

His arms curled around me.

“Where you been?” he asked, still quiet.

“Dinner with Dad,” I answered, and got an arm squeeze.

Then I got a murmured “Good choice.”

I sighed.

It was. Then again, Dad was always a good choice.

“Get your head straight?” Shy asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

He was silent a beat, then he wrapped his arms tighter around me and stated, “You got that, let’s get it all.”

Uh-oh.

Shy continued, “You f*ck up food more than you don’t. You talk a lot. Coupla days before your period, sugar, you can get bitchy. It is not lost on me the way you slam the toilet seat down when I leave it up. That statement you intend to make without usin’ the words is clear. And no one should get as ticked as you do that I don’t rinse out my beer bottles before puttin’ them in the recycle bin.”

I didn’t really like where this was going.

And, seriously, you didn’t rinse stuff out before throwing it in the bin, that made the bin stink. Who’d want that?

When he stopped talking, I prompted with a slow “Okay.”

Shy went on, “I get all that’s you. I love you, so I’ve decided, instead of findin’ it annoying, to find it cute. ’Cause it’s you. So that’s what it is. Cute. Except the part when you’re bitchy ’cause you’re goin’ on the rag, but that has more to do with the fact I’m gonna lose your * for a few days and that is not my favorite time of the month.”

Okay, well, I liked all that and I was with him.

Still, I said to his throat, “Beating someone up isn’t cute, Shy.”

“No, but it’s me.”

He was not wrong about that.

I pulled in breath in order to help that thought settle. When it settled, I shifted and kissed his throat.

His arms got tighter around me, and I figured that statement was clear too.

“He was f*ckin’ with you, Tabby. Anyone f*cks with you, I’m steppin’ in and I’m gonna do it how I feel it needs to be done. This time, I gave you time. I’ll warn you now, I might not give you time if it happens again. All I need is for you to understand where I’m at and roll with me.”

“I’ll roll with you,” I agreed and got another squeeze.

“I’ll also say that I gave you the option of goin’ quiet about it this time ’cause we’re still gettin’ used to each other. But, sugar, in future, I’ll have a lot less patience with you goin’ into your head and keepin’ shit from me. And the only way I can think to get that across is to ask you to think about how you’d feel if I did the same to you. Somethin’ important was goin’ down, I didn’t let you in, give you a chance to help me deal even if I eventually decide not to deal the way you advise me to deal, how would you feel?”

I wouldn’t feel good, that was for sure. I’d want the chance to help him deal, but more, I’d want him to trust me to do that.

When I said nothing, he asked, “Did I get that across to you?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

Shy went quiet.

I did too.

Then I told him, “You were there but, just sayin’, I saw the aftermath and he was totally f*cked up.”

“Had a point to make, didn’t f*ck around. I made it,” Shy muttered.

He certainly did that.

“Peggy thought it was a hoot,” I shared. “I didn’t know she was so bloodthirsty. She told everyone about it. She’s dying to know what happened.”

Shy was speaking with humor now when he said, “Least somebody got off on it.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

Shy again went quiet and I did too, tipping my chin to stare at the TV.

My body was settling deeper into his, relaxing when Shy asked softly, “We good?”

I slid my arm around him, tucking it tight and I replied just as softly, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good,” he murmured.

Again, I sighed.

There it was. No going back. I just went through the unofficial ceremony.