Page 108 of The Hermit

We stand for a little while longer before I let go of Grace so I can carry the rest of our haul into the house.

“If we’re moving before winter, we bought all these supplies for no reason,” she mentions while she grabs one of the lighter bags.

“Once we’ve decided where to settle down, we’ll bring it all with us,” I say as we head back up the hill. “Just because we’re moving doesn’t mean our routine will change.”

“Once a hermit, always a hermit,” she chuckles beside me. A moment later, she says, “If we’re moving to the island, I’ll need more bikinis.”

My head snaps in her direction. “No, you won’t.”

She glances up at me. “I only have one, and I’m not even sure whether it still fits.”

“You’re not wearing a bikini,” I grumble. “Ever.”

Her eyes meet mine, and the next second, a grin spreads over her face. “What if I promise to only wear the bikini in front of you?”

I glance at the path again. “Then you can wear one every day.”

She bumps her shoulder against my arm while chuckling. “You’re incorrigible.”

We enter the house and carry the bags to the kitchen, where we set them down on the table.

“Can we hold off on telling Evinka the good news? I’d love to do it in person so we can see her face.”

I nod. “Sure. I don’t mind.”

“Do you want a son or daughter?” Grace asks as we begin to unpack everything.

As I put cans of beans on a shelf, I reply, “As long as our child is healthy, I don’t really care. It would be great to have one of each, of course.”

Her eyes follow me while I carry a big bag of flour into the pantry, then she exclaims, “Oh my gosh, we get to decorate a nursery!”

“We do,” I agree, grinning as I walk past her to get the bag of sugar. “We can decorate the wall with little guns and grenades.”

She lets out a burst of laughter. “Blue ones for a boy and pi–”

I come out of the pantry and seeing a frown on Grace’s face, I hurry to her.

Placing one hand on her shoulder and the other on her stomach, I ask, “What’s wrong? Pain?”

She shakes her head, and her voice is tense as she says, “I hate pink. I never thought it would matter until today.”

“It’s just a color,milácik.”

She tilts her head back, and her eyes meet mine. “He used to make me wear pink every single day.”

It’s been a while since Mallon’s come up, and it hits me with one hell of a wave of rage.

If I could have one wish, it would be to bring that fucker back to life so I could torture him.

Darkness and the thirst for revenge skirt around the edges of my voice as I say, “Then there will never be pink in our house.”

“That wouldn’t be fair to our daughter. It might turn out to be her favorite color,” Grace mutters. “I just don’t want to think of him every time I see something pink.”

“Maybe if we associate the color with happy things, it will change how you feel about it,” I mention. “Little pink bunnies. Pink teddies. Pink baby shoes.”

The corner of her mouth lifts slightly. “Or we can just make her love purple instead.”

I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead before engulfing her with my body.

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