Page 35 of Ruffled Feathers

They both winced, which was not a good sign. Sonny cleared his throat. “It’s not too bad. It mostly burnt up the ends.” He blew out the remaining candles. “I think we might get battery-operated ones from now on. Come on, I’ll drive you to Urgent Care.”

Ugh.“Sonny, I’ll just go run it under cold water in the shower. It’s really not?—”

He turned, and I could see the guilt and the residual fear on his face. “Please, Tillie.”

Huffing out an annoyed breath, I stood. “Fine. But when we’re sitting there for hours, remember we could have played naughty nurse and recalcitrant patient in my bedroom, instead of trying to get comfortable on hard plastic chairs.”

I woke to the sound of my phone ringing.

It had been a long night. Truett had appeared at Urgent Care just after we’d arrived, and had chewed Sonny out for so long, it was a wonder he hadn’t needed burn care too.

As I’d suspected, I had a couple of first-degree burns, but honestly, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. I had some burn cream, along with instructions on how to care for it if it blistered. The guys had dropped me back home at two a.m., tucking me into bed. I hadn’t even protested, because I was literally dead on my feet.

Rolling over, I slapped my hand around, searching for my phone. Finding it under my pillow, I lifted it to my cheek. If it was work asking me to come in to cover someone’s shift, I was going to hang up on them.

“Hello?” I mumbled.

“Otillie-James? It’s Strat.”

I blinked awake. “Hey, Strat. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.” He hesitated. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

I looked at my phone, suddenly realizing it was eleven in the morning. “No, of course not,” I lied. “Sorry, I was just, uh, watching the finance channel.”Oh my god, I’m such an idiot.“What can I do for you?”

His low chuckle told me he knew I was full of shit. “The police have arranged a lineup for this afternoon and would like for you to attend, if you’re free.”

I stood, like being vertical meant that I was a constructive member of society. “Sure. What time?”

“Around three?”

I looked over at the mirror. Half my hair was gone, just charred ends standing up like frizzy little pubes. “Sure, three sounds good. Unrelated, but you don’t happen to know anywhere I could get an emergency hair appointment?”

Luckily for me, Strat Wilmington was well connected. He’d managed to get me an appointment with one of the best salons in the city, and had promised to collect me from there personally to drive me to the station for the lineup.

My hairdresser was a sweet little Beta with a heart-shaped face and a button nose, who giggled when I recounted what happened. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a kiss that hot,” shechuckled as she chopped inches and inches off my hair. “No one’s ever set me on fire like that.”

I mock-glared at her. “Ashley, I swear I will not tip you if you keep making fire jokes.”

She just smirked. “It might actually be worth it.”

Apparently, the damage to my hair was worse in some parts than others, and it had caught in the center of my hair and not on the ends, so by the time Sonny had put it out, a lot had burned off.

Fuck my life.

Ashley had told me to trust her, then put me in front of a station with no mirror. That was probably for the best. Otherwise, I might have cried.

“At least you have the bone structure for a shaggy bob. It could be worse. You could have dead straight hair, and I’d have to give you a buzz cut,” she cajoled, and as long lengths of my hair fell around me, I tried to see it as a silver lining. I’d been meaning to make a change for a while.

But what if the guys don’t like me with shorter hair?

I wanted to punch myself in the ovaries. Who cared what they liked? If they only wanted me for my hair, then this accident was definitely a blessing in disguise.

“Okay, I’m almost done. Let me just blow dry this.” I closed my eyes as she dried and styled, and I mentally prepared myself for something hideous.

The door to the salon opened, and Ashley sighed wistfully. When Strat Wilmington appeared beside my chair, I looked up at him and burst into tears. How fucking embarrassing. Over hair, of all things.

This PMS was getting wild, because I’d never been one of those people attached to their hair, or so I’d thought. This was harder than I could have ever guessed. I was out of control of my emotions.

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