Page 121 of The Guy Next Door

His arm pops up, and I burst into a laugh.

“Oh, that easy, huh?” I roll toward him.

His arm drops back down on me, and he pulls my body close to his. “I’m only kidding. Although, I wouldn’t mind a few waffles after that workout you gave me last night.”

I reach down and grip his ass. “Yeah, this ass gave me a good workout too.”

“Now that I’ve trapped you, I figure I’m just gonna be a total bottom. And you’re gonna have to come home and drill me with that thing every afternoon.”

We share a laugh, and as it settles, I assess his expression.

That spark in his eyes has returned, but I can still see the pain. It hasn’t been an easy month, between our encounter with Tolle and the subsequent revelations.

Tolle took a plea deal. Confessed to every detail of his crimes.

How he met Jason and Mike at the Chelsby Hill library. How he talked with them about books a few times before he caught them while they were walking around town, offering rides. He used his stun gun to keep them from fighting, then bound them in zip ties and tucked them away in the trunk of his car, takingthem to his place, where he did the sorts of things monsters do. And once he didn’t see that light in their eyes anymore—as he saw it, at least—he disposed of the bodies. Jason’s was in the creek by the dam, and Mike’s was in another creek on the other side of town.

Since Mike’s body was recovered, Roth has met up with Zane a few times. She’s apologized for their difficulties throughout the investigation and offered him private insights about the case, which has become a high-profile media circus, capturing not only the attention of Wyachet, but the nation.

Zane’s had to process it all through the media frenzy while managing the investigation and Mike’s service. Despite how wild it’s all been, my parents have been amazing, not only to me, but to Zane. They wished I’d felt comfortable sharing sooner, but given the circumstances, they’re not surprised we handled it the way we did. Just glad we’re both alive.

The past week has really been the first time Zane’s had some peace, so long as he doesn’t check the news on his phone or see a paper on a newsstand around town.

All that aside, the way he’s smiling this morning gives me reason to hope.

Achirpcomes from the other side of Zane’s room, and we turn our attention to Kyra’s cage, where she flies from the bottom to her little wooden perch. Since I started staying with Zane after our confrontation with Tolle, we moved Kyra over to his place.

Zane says, “Guess she’s trying to remind me that we have to start waffles because we have our big picnic today.”

Despite how little interest she’d shown in flying since I rescued her, last week we caught her flying around her cage. At first, she seemed to struggle, but a few days ago, it became clear my friend’s back to her old self, ready to take flight, so we planned a big release celebration at the park.

As Zane turns back to me, he rests his hand on my arm, caressing my triceps. “How you feeling about that?”

“Glad she’s better, but sad too. I’ll miss her.”

He frowns. “You were very good to her. You’ve been very good to both of us.”

“You’ve been good to me too,” I tell him. I know he values what I’ve brought into his life since we first met, and particularly this past month. But I won’t let him dismiss how much better I’ve been with him too.

He smirks and leans close, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Come on. Let’s get some waffles in our bellies and then jerk off in the shower.”

My kind of morning.

We force ourselves out of bed. Go through our morning routine, getting through waffles before he helps me with prepping food for the picnic. We put on the downstairs TV, cuddling up to watch some of our shows.

I could get used to this routine.

When the afternoon arrives, we head to Palamone Park and settle on a blanket in a spot not far from where we went sledding before Christmas. Kyra starts flapping about wildly in her cage, like she wants to get out.

“Oh, no,” I say after I swallow a bite of my sandwich.

“Oh no? That’s a good sign. Maybe she knows she’s ready.”

“I’m just so worried about her.”

“Worried? She’s been in the wild before. She knows how to survive.”

Zane’s right, but it still plays on my mind. “What if her wing isn’t healed up enough?”

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