Page 60 of Raiden

“Not exactly.”

“Oh my god. She’s smart. Smart and beautiful. You never stood a chance, did you?”

I’m the one who almost chokes now, delicious waffle sticking in my throat. I force it down with great effort. “She doesn’t have to teach. I’m not sure she wants to anymore. She could write. Go into communications or something. I don’t know what she’s been doing for her dad’s club, but I’d like to talk her into finishing her PhD here if she can.” I’d like to find out what her dreams are. Whatever she wants to do, I’d support her fully. “I need to help her find out what she’s passionate about.”

Lark rolls her eyes while she pours more batter into the maker. “Gross.”

“Lark.”

She shuts the lid, batter hissing out the side because she overloaded it. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re siblings who ended up with siblings?”

“It happens.”

“Life is strange. You never see half the stuff coming.”

“Good thing for that, or who would want to live it?” Knowing the future would be awful, although, helpful sometimes. As in, if I’d known that Zale Grand was going to betray me and get me locked up, I would have put a bullet into his head and lived with those consequences instead.

“How are… your things?” Lark mumbles, not meeting my eye.

“What things?”

“I know that you don’t like to talk about it, but I know not everything’s okay like you pretend it is. I know you weren’t sleeping. You were making a pizza in the middle of the night when I came back or buzzing around the house cleaning up or refusing to sit still more nights than not.”

I glance at Penny, who is still listening raptly. I shake my fork at her, making her grin. “I’ll be okay.”

“Gray’s still your best friend. Talk to him, Ray, please. Or talk to someone. Not just if things get out-of-control bad. Don’t let it get that far.”

“Ella wants me to talk to someone too.”

“Ella?”

“Widow. Don’t look at me like that, Lark. I’m not going to do it because she said so and ignore you. you don’t have to be put out.”

“You definitely don’t have to be put out.”

Widow walks into the kitchen, such a picture of beauty wearing my t-shirt, so huge and long on her that it’s longer than her dress from last night, barefoot, makeup smudged and hair a crazy mess, that my lungs go into some kind of trauma and refuse to work. Her eyes glimmer bright as the sun most of my club brothers won’t see until well into the evening, when it’s setting. Hangovers are real and I’m sure that it’s a malady that most of them are going to have after last night.

She crosses to the table and drops a kiss on my cheek that makes my face flame hot. She’s not doing it for show, but because she wantsto. It feels almostdomestic, almost normal, almost like I could get used to it.

She picks up my left hand and gives Penny the thumbs up. “Looking good. I love the color choice.” Her fist goes lightly into my shoulder, ribbing me. “Aren’t you the best uncle who ever lived?”

“I have another bottle that’s just sparkles that I’m going to put on top!” Penny announces eagerly.

Widow slides my plate over, takes the fork dangling from my fingertips, and cuts off a chunk of my waffles. She pops them in her mouth and chews, looking so goddamn sexy that I’d be hard if it wasn’t for the fact that I have an audience who happens to be related to me in here.

I don’t know what I am when she cuts a second piece and brings the fork to my lips, feeding me.

Done the fuck inis probably an apt description.

“I love how the pink covers up and blends in with all the oil stains,” Widow points out.

“How much of that did you hear?” I ask her privately.

“Enough to know that your rough and tough cracked heart is in the best place,” she whispers back. She strokes my jaw and gets back up. “Coffee?”

I hope to god she’s wearing underwear under that shirt. If I wasn’t obligated to sit here and let Penny finish the manicure, I’d take her right back to our room and find out.

Our. Room. Christ. Is it?

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