TWENTY-TWO

KEIRA

I Walk The Line - Halsey

Every muscle in my body aches, including my traitorous pussy. She makes me act against my best interest, never thinking about how we will feel the next morning. The trip to The Red Door last night was more than I could have ever expected. Something about the energy of the place subconsciously gives me the permission I’m always looking for—the unspoken approval to jump with both feet into the deep end and drown in unheard-of pleasure.

His words filter through my sleep-riddled mind.Collar. Permanently.

Thinking about it drums up the same whole-body tingles of overwhelming elation. It dawns on me that if he’s been monitoring my search history, my reaction at the club shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I’ve scoured the web for options currently on the market, saving my favorites in a secret folder he probably found without doing much digging.

Groaning, I roll out of bed. My feet hitting the floor catches Cinder’s attention, and she perks up from her bed in the corner. Now that we’re home, Harkin’s made it abundantly clear she’s no longer welcome in our bed. It's too bad for him; that only works when he’s here. She joins me anytime he leaves the house. Though, that doesn’t happen often.

I pull on workout shorts and one of Harkin’s well-loved hoodies that falls just above my knees. I draw the fabric to my nose, inhaling the fresh, woodsy scent that’s all him. It reminds me of stepping out onto the small back deck of the cabin in Colorado. The ability to smell the vegetation there, even in the middle of winter, was something of a wonder coming from the city.

“Come on, sleepyhead, let’s go find the others,” I say, patting the side of my thigh.

She trots obediently beside me, her soft fur brushing against my leg as we make our way down the hall. Instead of running off as I expect her to do in search of Harkin for breakfast, she heels at the end of the hallway. Her teeth are barred, and a low, menacing growl pulses low into the space, warning me.

“What the hell?” I breathe, looking down at her.

But then I feel it, the change in the air. My eyes fling up, searching across the kitchen and into the living room, when it hits me. A woman stands against the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the street below.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I bark out, my anger rising as she turns in my direction.

I didn’t need to see her face to know Alina was standing before me. It was how her shoulders were set, the way her perfectly coiffed hair was styled, and her designer clothes draped off her petite frame.

“Well, hello to you too, sister.”

“Don’t call me that. You’re nothing to me.”

“Always, with the dramatics. Boohoo! Daddy didn’t love you enough to reach out. Get over it.”

I ignore the dig she thinks will get under my skin. She’s wrong, but why not let her think that’s the issue between us?

“Where’s Harkin?” The moment the question leaves my lips, the footsteps sound behind me. Cinder doesn’t move a muscle to double-check, sensing him the same way I can. She’s still locked on the intruder across the room, but she's holding back since I haven’t commanded her to attack.

“Morning, sweetness,” he offers quickly, kissing my cheek. “I was hoping you’d sleep through this, but since you’re awake, why don’t you come sit down so we can discuss this.”

I don’t like how his vagueness gets my back up, but I don’t show it. Instead, I follow him across the living room to the leather sofa, where I plop down, Cinder sitting at my side, still on high alert.

“Well?” I throw out, wanting an explanation for whatever the hell this is.

Harkin drops a file folder I didn’t notice him carrying on the coffee table. Alina walks over from the window, her purse clutched tightly against her body like a shield as she eyes my dog and the papers waiting within biting distance. The idea of siccing Cinder on her brings me immense joy, but I remember she’s not just my insufferable twin sister. She’s also a mom. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s the pain of losing that person from your life. No little girl deserves that, not even when their mother is Alina.

Quickly snagging the folder from the table, she steps back a few paces to create more space between us. She flips through page after page of what, I still don’t know. Harkin’s hand lands on my knee and squeezes, reassuring me to wait before I pop off again. I draw in deep breaths and tangle my fingers in his, agreeing silently.

“You’re sure?” Alina asks, more gently than I’ve ever heard her sound. It’s almost as if her words are drenched in hope.

“I sent a follow-up sample to confirm that Keira was a match. The doctor is ready to schedule a final consult, get paperwork signed by both of you, and get the procedure on the calendar,” Harkin answers.

I gulp down the surprised gasp, trying to break free. The bone marrow donation has been on my mind, but with everything coming at us from left, right, and center, it’s been pushed off every single time.

“When did you do all this?” I ask him quietly as Alina shifts through the papers again.

“When you were sleeping.” He squeezes my fingers and shoots me a wink.

Alina’s shuffle to shove the papers in her purse distracts me from the considerate man beside me.