Page 63 of Cold Foot Komodo

Raynah took a Twizzler from the open package that sat out on the counter and chewed on it, scrolling with a lingering grin on her face. “It’s kind of funny.”

“It really, really doesn’t feel funny at all.”

“Dude, have you seen Reed’s face in all of these pictures? He looks miserable.”

“What?”

Raynah zoomed in on one. “I bet in this one he’s thinking, ‘We’re broken up, why are you taking a picture of me.’ This one he’s thinking, ‘I barely tolerate you.’”

Sasha took the phone back slowly, and looked at the pictures in a different light.

“Now go back and look at your lock screen,” Raynah suggested. “It’s disgusting how happy he looks. Gag.”

Sasha did as she said, and looked at the selfie they had taken together on her lock screen. It was a snow picture. They both had beanies on—him dark brown, her hot pink. She was kissing his cheek through a smile, and he wore this happy, confident smile as he looked right at the camera. She had her arms thrown around his neck. He had snapped the picture in the parking lot of a café near the hospital the other day when they’d grabbed lunch on her break. The smile filled his eyes.

He looked good in his old pictures. Very serious, very put-together, very dialed-in. But now? With his short beard and clear eyes, and the muscle he’d put on in Cold Foot? She liked this version of him better.

Raynah was right. She’d had a moment, and she’d let Farrah get to her for a split second, but she was his past. Sasha was his present and future.

Tell him to unblock me. Right now.Farrah’s text made her laugh. She read it to Raynah, and her friend laughed with her.

She didn’t need to get into a pissing contest with this toxic woman. Sasha was good, and she had better things to do with her time. So she texted Farrah the picture of them from her lock screen and repeated her words.He isn’t single. He isn’t yours. You have a cute kid. Little young to be Reed’s though. Cat’s out of the bag, honey. Time to move on.

She could see the dots going immediately that indicated Farrah was typing, but Sasha had no interest in this. She blocked the number before Farrah could send her whatever bullshit text she was typing.

You know what, while she was at it? She blocked her mother too. Tonight was going to be fun, and no one was allowed to wreck her peace, or that of Reed’s. They were doing good. They were working on themselves. They weren’t hurting anyone. No more negativity allowed, and this damn phone was loaded with it. She would bring it out to snap pics with Reed, and of herfriends playing pool and singing karaoke tonight, but other than that, it would stay in her purse.

Raynah pointed to the door, and around the Twizzler hanging from her mouth, she said, “The boys are here.”

“How do you know?”

Raynah pointed to her ear. “Croc super-hearing.”

“Okay, tell me more about that. I’m intrigued. Can crocodiles in the wild hear well too? Or is that sense amplified in shifters?”

Raynah frowned at the door. “Never mind. The truck started up again and drove away.”

“Maybe the boys are turning around at the cul-de-sac?” Sasha guessed.

Raynah shrugged. “Shifters have even better senses. Do you see wieners at your job?”

“What?”

“Do you have to see like, gross men’s wieners? When you are doing nursing? Like when you are saving people’s lives, do their wieners flop out?”

“Oh my gosh,” she said with a laugh. “Yes, but I don’t notice. I’m completely desensitized. Doesn’t even register.”

“Okay, but what if like, a hot guy came in. Six-pack. Perfect nipples. Maybe some tattoos. Maybe some bicep veins. And his wiener flopped out of his hospital gown. Would you notice then?”

But before Sasha could answer, Raynah stood and glared at the door, listening. “The truck is back, but from the wrong direction.” She made her way to the front window and looked outside. “You know anyone with a blue Chevy Colorado?”

“No.”

“They’re parked right behind our trucks, on the street. Blocking the entire driveway.”

“What the hell?” she muttered, yanking open the front door.

The woman who came around the front of that truck extinguished her anger. Shock froze her in place. The woman was tall and lean, and her dark hair hung in frizzy, unkempt waves down her shoulders. Her eyes were blazing a frost blue, glowing oddly in the porch light as she strode for her. Farrah?

---