Page 30 of Collect the Pieces

I’d also rather not be here when they move the body into the viewing room but that seems disrespectful, so I keep it to myself.

When I’m finished with the bulbs, I store the ladder away and find Margot in the hallway setting out a guest book, prayer cards, and mints on a small table.

“Hey.” I stop next to her. “I’m going to head out. But call me later, when you’re done.”

“This will be long and then we have back-to-back consultations.” She bites her lip. “And I’ll be working all day tomorrow too it looks like.”

Disappointment hits me hard.

Why am I getting so clingy?

The way I just want to be near this woman all the time can’t be normal. “All right,” I answer evenly. “You think you’ll be able to take off next weekend?”

“For the bonfire at the clubhouse? The whole weekend?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “We can stay over. It’ll probably be busy there all weekend. Or we can take a ride, and I’ll show you Downstate’s clubhouse or my place?”

Her eyes light up and a softer smile curves her lips. “I’d really like that.”

“Good.” I have to at least pretend I don’t want to kidnap her indefinitely. “If you can’t get off the whole weekend—at least Friday night?” Christ, I sound like I’m begging now.

“Okay.” Her whole face scrunches into a frown. “Unless there’s like a mass-casualty pileup on the Thruway or something, Friday won’t be a problem.”

I huff a laugh—then stop. She’s not kidding. “Yeah, of course.”

She casts a quick glance around, then leans up on tiptoes, hooks her arm around my neck and drags me closer. “Thank you.” She brushes a quick kiss against my cheek.

I turn, catching her lips for a longer kiss, then drop my forehead to hers. “For what?”

“Everything.” She lifts her gaze to the ceiling. “For hearing me out. For all your help this morning.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”I think I love you and I’d do anything for you.

“Well, I do.”

Letting her go feels like breaking my arms out of concrete.

“Be careful,” she warns.

“Always,” I answer automatically, but her words linger as I move through the house. A sobering reminder of everyday danger.

Outside, the back parking lot has more cars than usual. I stop at my bike and send Teller a quick text.

Me: You available to meet at the clubhouse for a few minutes?

I stare at my phone, waiting for a response.

Nothing.

The man’s busy changing diapers and whatever the fuck else you do with babies but come on now.

“Jensen?” a rough voice hesitantly calls out.

I stuff my phone in my pocket, glance up, and find Margot’s dad coming down the porch steps.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yes, yes.” He stops in front of me and slides his gaze over my bike. The corners of his mouth twitch. Is that asmirkon Cedarwood’s face? “Thank you for helping Margot this morning.”

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