Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
She made busywork reordering all the utensils and then she pulled the flat drawer underneath out just to double-check the sharps were good to go. Man, she wished she had a house with this setup. The kitchen had been done over just a couple of years ago, the new solar-powered appliances paired up with hand-paneled cherry cabinets and beautiful red-and-brown granite counters and gray slate floors that had red area rugs on them. The long table that ran down the meadow-view side of things was already set for Last Meal, and for a split second, the twenty places reminded her of the mansion.
No sterling, porcelain, or damask napkins, but stainless steel, pottery, and gingham squares. But many seats, for a community of people.
She rubbed the ache in the center of her chest, and knew she had to go face the music at home. Even though the last thing she wanted to do was get into a fight about…
“What about him?”
Nalla shook herself to attention and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sorry? What?”
Rahvyn was still at the sink, her silver hair down over the bright-red sweater she was wearing, the combo candy-cane bright, yet her beauty such that it wasn’t overpowered.
“Nate.”
Shit. She must have spoken his name out loud. “Ah, nothing.”
There was a long pause, and Nalla filled it fiddling with the knives some more. Which even to her was an admission of guilt, not that she’d been accused of anything—
“It is not any of my business, but I know he was upstairs with you.”
As Nalla’s head snapped back around, Rahvyn put her hand up. “It is fine. You are a guest here, and he is not a resident, so there is no conflict of interest. And before you ask, no, that was not why I went up there. I really did want you to make cookies with me. I was worried about you last night.”
Nalla shut the drawer and eased back against it, mirroring the other female’s pose. “I’m surprised you’re here again this evening.” She winced. “That sounds bad. I didn’t mean—”
“Like I said, my life has changed.” The female ran a hand through her silver hair. “Time is precious, so I like to use it where I can make a difference.”
As their eyes met, Nalla knew she really had to go. But then she thought of what had been interrupted on the second floor. “Nate is just… a friend of mine.”
“I am glad to hear that. He needs a friend right now. More than ever.”
Nalla frowned. “Why’s that?”
“He has got a lot on his mind.” Rahvyn shrugged with what seemed like sad resignation. “But it is really not my place to say, you know?”
“Oh, I’m not prying.” Bullshit. Bulllllshittttttt. “Really, I’m not.”
“I hope you give him a chance. He needs… a friend.”
“I wish I knew why.”
Nah, she wasn’t prying. She was just dying to know anything about his past and what kind of pain he’d treated with those tattoos… hell, how about the sweatshirt? For fuck’s sake, she’d take a DL on the XXL.
“He’s very different… from other people,” Nalla prompted.
Rahvyn nodded gravely. “Yes, he is, and that alienates him. But everybody needs support and—”
A soft chiming sound brought both their heads around to the monitoring screen mounted by the microwave.
“Looks like we have company,” Rahvyn said with a sudden smile. “Your mahmen, how great.”
As the female headed out to open the front door and do the greeting thing, Nalla closed her eyes and let her head fall back.
But come on, she couldn’t avoid her parents forever.
* * *
Out at his crappy log cabin, Nate closed the door and leaned against the rough planks, his arms crossed over his chest. As he opened his mouth to speak—
He didn’t have a chance to say anything.
“You’ve got to cut the shit downtown.” Murhder’s eyes were as direct as a slap in the face. “You can’t be pulling the crap you do, expecting other people to clean up after…”
As his father continued speaking from that worn-out armchair by the dead fireplace, Nate knew that responses from him weren’t required. Then again, it was all things that had been said before, none of the condemnations wrong, all of the conclusions correct, each sentence punctuated with the same frustration with which it was received.
He had gone off the chain with the shit he’d pulled on Market. He had been an asshole the last decade or three. And…?
“So what do you have to say for yourself?”
You fucking asshole, Nate tacked on for his father.
And well, he was surprised that there wasn’t anyhing about Nalla and the slayer in that alley.
“Nothing? That’s what I figured.” Murhder shook his head and got to his feet. “So I’ll stop wasting my time. You’re off rotation—”
“Oh, fuck that.” Nate uncoiled himself as well. “That’s—”
“The only responsible thing to do.”