Page 89 of The Outsider

“I did it,” she said.

“You did,” he said.

He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to pull her up right off her feet and spin her in a circle. But that was the kind of thing other people did. People who indulged themselves. People who let their emotions lead. And that could never be him. Not ever. But Bix was beaming, and he wanted to capture part of it. She was like a sunbeam, and he wanted to bask in her.

Wanted to keep that joy rolling. Because... as frightened as she’d been when he’d first met her, she burned bright now.

It was all things that had been there already. He knew that. “I’m starving,” she said.

He laughed. Because that was Bix.

“All right. Go get your food. After that I have a present for you.”

“A present?” She looked so excited that he felt a little bit bad. Because as presents went, it was a lame one. But he had thought that it might be meaningful. Or maybe it wouldn’t be. She would do with it exactlywhat she’d said she would. But, that would be fair, he supposed.

“Get your food first.”

“No,” she said. “I want my present.”

“You are a little brat,” he said. “It’s in my truck.”

“All right. Let’s go to the truck.”

They walked out of the barn, and to where he had parked, just on the outskirts of the gathering. They could hear the din of conversation, the pop of the bonfire. Their makeshift ranch band was beginning to play, jugs, banjos and lap steels going strong along with some pretty decent harmonies.

He reached into the bed of the truck, and took out a hefty, large brick. He had painted “Bix” across it in white paint. “Here. It’s a brick. Because you have one now.”

She held it in her hands, stared at it. She looked up at him. “Thanks.” She sounded stunned.

“Yeah. Well. You have that now. To take with you wherever you go.”

She nodded. Her eyes were glassy, and he could see that she was trying to push the emotion down. Hell. He wanted to push his own emotion down. And he wanted to reach out and hold her. Wanted to pull her against his body and tilt her face up so that he could look at all that emotion in her eyes.

He wanted to drown in it.

He wanted to let go of this new lifetime of restraint, and give it all to her. Everything. Everything he’d ever felt, everything he hadn’t let himself feel.

And that was some dangerous shit.

“Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”

“What I want you to know is that I’m not actually giving you the brick. You made the brick.”

“With ingredients that I got from King’s Crest.”

“I guess so.”

“Listen, I know I’m amazing. But if I can acknowledge that, I need you to admit you helped.”

“That sounds a fair trade.”

“Thank you, Daughtry.” She held tightly to the brick, looked from it to him. He felt scalded, inside and out.

“You can put it back in the truck.”

She laughed. “Thank you. Because I didn’t want to carry a brick around for the whole rest of the night.”

“I didn’t figure.”

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