Page 132 of Black Bird

“No. Don’t go over there. Promise me you won’t.”

“Why?”

“Just promise me. Don’t go anywhere near that place, do you understand?”

“What are you not telling me, babe?”

Just hearing it come out of his mouth made her chest ache. “It’s too much to go into right now. Don’t make any moves on that front until I talk to Athan. Deal?”

Brandon sighed.“Alright. Stay outta sight. I’ll text this number when it’s safe to chat.”

“Okay.”

“Rhaena …”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you too.”

Rhaena closed her eyes and softly smiled. “You owe me. It snowed.”

Brandon chuckled on the other end.“I make good on my debts.”

“Bye, you.”

“Later.”

They hung up and she slid the phone in her pants pocket. She took a moment and breathed a long sigh, relishing in the feel of how cold her sweat was becoming with the icy air. What the hell would they do now? It was bad enough that the Feds were hijacking their case … now one of their own—her own partner—was being tailed for arrest. Rhaena turned to look through the window again and found the blankets empty. She hoped she hadn’t been the one that had stirred them awake. She turned and hesitated when her hand rested on the doorknob. He wasn’t gonna take this well. Rhaena grit her teeth and opened the door.

Sarah was barefoot in the kitchen scooping coffee into the small setup, while Athan washed the pot out in the sink next to her. Neither one of them had noticed that Rhaena had come inside. He flicked water in her face and Sarah hit him in the shoulder, both of them snickering quietly. Rhaena couldn’t help but find it adorable. She’d never seen Athan smile at anyone like that in all the years that she’d known him. He was so happy. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin it yet. She cleared her throat and they both turned around.

“Happy turkeys.” Sarah grinned. “Coffee?”

Rhaena smiled at her knowingly and started toward the kitchen. “Please.”

Athan handed her the pot and Sarah turned back around to pour it into the back of the coffee maker. Rhaena took a seat at the small table, and he met eyes with her. “Morning.” He half-smiled, leaning against the counter.

“Morning. You’re in a spritely mood.” Rhaena couldn’t resist rubbing it in.

Sarah didn’t even turn so much as her head in their direction while she poured the water. “That’s because I fucked his brains out all night.” There wasn’t even a hint of modesty in her tone and Rhaena burst out laughing. Athan’s face flushed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, holding onto that bashful smirk. Sarah’s grin was hysterical when she pressed the button on the coffee maker and raised on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Sorry, honey,” she whispered, turning away from him and patting Rhaena’s shoulder as she passed to make her way to the bedroom.

“My girl.” Rhaena snorted, raising back up from her chair to stand in front of Athan who stood shaking his head. He crossed his arms in front of his wrinkled white t-shirt. Rhaena paused in front of him and pointed at the blankets in the living room. “Clean that up,” she chuckled. “And by clean, I mean fuckingwashthem. It reeks of way too muchhappinessin here.”

“Christ.” Athan laughed under his breath, rubbing over his face with his palms.

Brent sat on the edge of his bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking through medical records of his mother’s and comparing them to what little Annie’s mother had given him after he’d visited the strangely mature child at the hospital. He was beginning to understand exactly why his father had chosen this girl as his test subject with Sarah’s blood. What hewishedhe had were any of Sarah’s records to figure out what exactly would have happened had he not given her back that blood bag and gifted it to this dying young girl instead. Now he couldn’t even reach Sarah. He turned his beer up, finding the last swallow warm and disgusting, and rolled his eyes as he stood. The steps down to his open lower floor were cold against the bottom of his feet, and the TV was muted but still playing as he trashed the empty bottle and opened the fridge for another.

His door buzzed and he turned toward it, screwing off the cap to his beer, and not giving a single shit who was on the other side … until he opened it and came face to face with his father. Brent stilled, glaring at him. Conrad eyed the towel and then pressed his mouth in a tight line as he returned his glare.

“If it’s a bad time, I can come back another—”

“If memory serves, you shouldn’t be here at all,” Brent countered, cutting him off and turning his beer up. “Are you not violating your own damn restraining order? This some clever trick to get merestrained?”

“It was shitty of me, I know. I’ll drop it. Are you alone?”

“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”

“We need to talk.” Conrad’s hands fidgeted in front of him, and Brent could tell he was uneasy.

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