Survivor (First to Fight #2)(26)

Donnie eyes me with interest. “Are you and Sofie back together?”

Coffee nearly shoots out of my nose and I choke back a cough with another swallow. “No, she—I… we’re not together, Don. I’m just helping her because you guys got sick. That’s all.”

“Who would want to be with her anyway?” Rafe mutters into his forkful of eggs.

“Hey,” I say sharply. “I don’t want you talking about her like that. She’s your sister.”

“She left you, too,” he says, his face hard.

“People do a lot of things, but most of them deserve second chances.”

“Is that why you’re helping her?” Donnie asks.

I pause before answering, then I say, “Yeah, Don, that’s why. Sometimes people hurt you, and sometimes it really sucks, but they deserve a second chance. Especially your sister because she’s your family. I know losing your mom was hard, I lost my dad, too. You guys remember. She’s the only person you have left. Don’t give up on her just yet.”

“We’ve got you, don’t we?” Rafe asks.

Smiling, I scrub his hair affectionately. “Of course you do.”

The sound of the door closing has me crossing the kitchen to put my empty cup in the sink. “I’m gonna go check on her. You two finish your breakfast and get your rooms cleaned up today since you’re feeling better.”

Their grumbles follow my retreating back, but my mind is already on the sounds coming from the other side of the bathroom door. “Morning, sunshine,” I say with a rap of my knuckles.

“Go away,” she shouts from the other side of the door. At least that much hasn’t changed. Sofie’s not what I’d call an early riser. I hear a toilet flush and then the sound of water.

Impatient to see if her color’s come back, I knock again. She flings the door open and glowers. “There has to be something illegal about you staying here against my will. I think I have Logan’s number in my phone. You better get going before I find the strength to call him.”

I laugh, relief spreading through my chest. If she has enough energy to throw attitude, she’s definitely gotta be feeling better “Logan is on administrative leave again, so you’re out of luck there,” I say, following close behind as she limps to her room.

She plops on the bed and wraps herself in the nest of comforters. “Wait, what? I thought you were about to call him the other day when I showed up?”

“You mean broke in?” She rolls her eyes and I grin. “I lied. Figured the threat of jail would probably convince you to stay just to spite me.”

“You are such an ass,” she snaps as she sucks water from a straw.

Even with her hair thrown up in a messy bun and wearing PJ’s consisting of an old T-shirt and shorts, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Especially, when the fight comes into her eyes. There are a few beats of silence before I remember to respond. “And you’re stubborn. Speaking of, I don’t want you to leave this bed until you’ve had something to eat, so don’t get it in your mind to go running around trying to do everything. I’ve got the boys handled for today. You just rest.”

She glares at me. “There are other cops in Nassau.”

“Sure, sure,” I say, forcing her to recline back into the covers while I head to the kitchen to fix her a plate. When I return, she’s engrossed in the latest episode of the sitcom I convinced her to watch. I hold up her plate. “Here you g—”

Snatching it from me with a waved hand, she hisses, “Shut up, this is the good part.”

Yes, it is. I refrain from voicing the sentiment as I join her on the bed. This feels so familiar, so normal, I almost never want to leave. Who thought being friends was a good idea?

I fumble for a topic of conversation to distract me from that line of thought. “When do you start work at your new job?”

“Next week,” she says through a yawn, half eaten plate of food forgotten on the bed. She fidgets, nearly sending it crashing to the floor. I chuckle, moving it off to the side and position her around me. The full sized bed is barely enough room for the two of us, and I’m not quite ready to pop the bubble of contentment I’m feeling, so I scoot close enough so she can rest her head on my shoulder.

I don’t know what’s worse. Having her this close after all these years, or not being able to do anything about it.

“You excited about it?” I ask, my voice low as her lids start to droop. She mumbles something, nodding against my chest until her eyes flutter closed. “That’s my girl,” I whisper, running a hand over her hair.

We doze on and off, and I can’t remember a time when I slept as peacefully as I do with her in my arms. When I wake a couple hours later, the static from the T.V. in the background and the scent of her shampoo surrounding me, my first reaction is to kiss her awake.

The thought of tasting her again after all these years jerks me the rest of the way awake, and I shift her out of my arms and sit up, rubbing a hand across my face. I get to my feet and glance back, finding her awake. Covering my own confusion with a grin, I say, “I’m gonna grab you another cup of water and check on the boys. Why don’t you grab a shower?”

She frowns. “Are you trying to hint that I stink?”

I hold my hands up and start backing away. “I would never say such a thing.” When she scoffs and jumps to her feet, I shout at her back, “I promise I won’t dig around in your underwear drawer!”