Page 59 of Bullet

“I never thought you were a baddie. Just strict.” Still, she hesitates.

Neither of us want to talk about what happened to those poor girls, but now that Willa knows, she’s been more cautious. This is what I’ve tried to shield her from with all my rules, my insistence that she tells me where she’s going and that she checks in, that she goes with people who will have her back, no matter what.

“I’m thankful for that. I can’t imagine… I get it. I’ll never hold one single rule against you ever again.”

I reach across the console and put my hand on her thigh, right over the mandala design she acid-washed into a pair of bellbottom jeans.

“What is it? You can talk to me. I promise I’m not going to be offended.”

Her hair is in a high ponytail, but she undoes it and scratches at her scalp to ease the ache. “I know you want to go back to Seattle now that we’re going to have the choice to go back to living a regular life, but I was thinking that maybe we could stay here until the end of December, when I’m done with school?”

I figured she was going to ask. I’ve been struggling to make my peace with the fact that if I leave Hart, this is it. Willa will have officially moved out. The club will rent her the house until she can create an apartment in the building that will soon house her business. She’s making a life here. It’s everything I wanted for her, but it’s hard to think of no longer living together.

I’m thirty years old, and it’s the first time I’ll ever be without her. Some people might bask in the glow of their freedom, but I know the bungalow will be quiet and too neat without Willa leaving coffee cups and plates, discarded clothes, books and hair ties all over the place. All the shoes will be neat and tidy on the rack, my coats will always be hung up, the bathroom will be spotless and free of clothes, and the washing machine won’t be a mountain of dirty laundry.

I squeeze her thigh and remove my hand. “I’ll stay until January, and maybe a short time after, but I’ll still have to go back home and check on the house for a few days at a time.”

“That’s fair.” She scrunches up her nose suddenly. “Because you love me, because it’s convenient while you’re working on signing on with the club, or because Bullet is here?”

“Because I love you, silly.”

“Just admit that you’ve missed him staying the night. He hasn’t been at the house in five days, and I think you’re going into muscle man withdrawal.”

I throw open my door and pop the trunk, grabbing my weekend bag and backpack. I grab Willa’s too.

“Your active avoidance speaks volumes,” she taunts, hooking a hand through the neon-pink straps. “He’s not your client anymore. There’s nothing legally stopping you. It’s all you.” She thrusts her finger into my forehead annoyingly. “Stop using this and start using…” She sweeps it down, making a whistling motion, indicating things far south of my face, but then lands on my chest and presses her palm flat there, laughing. “And start using this.”

I roll my eyes and brush past her, which only causes her to laugh the whole way into the house.

Inside, on the middle of the kitchen table, is a large blue glass bowl full of fresh fruit. The fridge has been freshly stocked, and there’s a container filled with homemade cinnamon buns on the counter.

“See!” Willa drops her bag in the middle of the kitchen floor. “He freaking wants you, Linny, but that’s not just it. He’s a sweetheart. He looks like a guy who wouldn’t have any feelings, let alone be able to show them, but he clearly brought usgroceries, even though we’re supposed to be on our own now. Looking after people is his love language.”

“Oh my god.Love?”

“Relax. It’s just a saying.” She picks up a Granny Smith apple and bites into it. “Mmm. No one likes these except me, and he knows that somehow. These things are wasted on pie.” She tosses me a Honeycrisp. “And he knows these are your favorite. Eat it. You need some sweetening up.”

“I do fucking not.”

“You do fucking so.” She takes another bite, chewing noisily. “I know you don’t believe in fate, but that night at the club, Donny was just supposed to cause a distraction with anyone, but it happened to be me. That douchebag Harold never counted on the club getting a smart, talented new lawyer out of the bargain. If the universe wasn’t looking after you and the club, bringing you both together in a match that you didn’t even know you needed, I don’t know what it was.”

I set the apple back in the bowl and cross my arms, needing a barrier against Willa’s endless optimism. Not that I want to crush it, but it’s a lot coming at me and the surge of emotions that I can usually control is starting to become overwhelming.

“You should take some time for yourself,” Willa insists. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you that. You’re happier now. I’ve definitely noticed and I’m sure you can feel the difference too. In what should have been the most stressful time of our lives, we’ve found this unexpected goodness.”

“It’s not that easy,” I protest, but Willa unfolds my arms and takes my hand.

“Bullet’s had a hard time with this. What happened hit the club brutally. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t feel for those women. They donated a massive amount of money even though they had nothing to do with what happened.”

She’s right. Once the club found out who was blackmailing Donny, they made sure the money went there and was distributed directly to the victims.

“Haven’t you noticed how withdrawn Bullet’s been this past week? I swear he’s lost weight, and he doesn’t look well. Is he sleeping? Is he eating? Is he sick? He’s still sweet and efficient, but he’s been so quiet. Even if you’re not going to date him, you should talk to him.”

She’s right about that too.

“Lynette. Seriously. It’s not like you have to get married and be with him forever.”

“That’s exactly it,’ I groan. “Bullet’s serious. He’s older and he has feelings about this and about me. I don’t think it could ever just be sex. It wouldn’t be enough.” For either of us.

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