Page 47 of Gloves Off

The doctor smilesthe whole way up the stairs.

This is pissing me off. I don’t like it when she smiles. I can’t look away and my stomach feels weird.

And that kiss earlier. That fucking life-changing kiss. I keep hearing the little moan she made as our tongues met.

Unease threads through me as she enters her room and I linger in the doorway. There’s no one here.

“Oh, darlings,” she calls, opening the bathroom door. “I’m home. There they are,” she says proudly, with that big grin on her annoying, gorgeous face. “My boyfriends.”

On the floor, a giant ball of dryer lint makes a squeaking noise.

“Eugh.” I make a face. “What the fuck is that?”

“Don’t sayeugh. This is Damon.” She crouches down to pet the dryer lint. “He’s the friendly, flirtatious one. Very outgoing,” she says, matter-of-fact. “And that one,” she points to the one hiding beside the toilet, “is Stefan. Very serious, brooding, and emo. I named them after the brothers on my favorite TV show.”

Realization dawns. A bonded pair, she said.

They’re so furry, I can’t see their eyes. Maybe they don’t have any. “But what are they?”

“They’re rabbits.”

“Thisis Stefan and Damon,” I say, mostly to myself.

Her smile is smug, but I don’t even care. Relief crashes through me, easing my shoulders down, loosening the knot in my gut. The doctor doesn’t have two boyfriends, or even one. She wasn’t talking to some other guy. She hasrabbitsand she was talking tothem. My shoulder hurts a little less.

I slide a glance at her. “Those aren’t rabbits.”

“They’re double-maned lionheads.”

“Is that why they look all fucked-up?”

“They don’t lookfucked-up. God. You’re so rude. They’re just fluffy. They’re cute.”

“They look like stuffed toys that went through the blender and got sewn up the wrong way.” I lean down to get a better look at the two massive piles of fur. “Are they even alive?”

She looks at me like I’m stupid.

“They’re not moving.”

“They’re tired,” she sputters.

“Tired fromwhat?”

Her expression turns incredulous. “From the journey into your hellhole home. They don’t want to be here any more than I do.”

“Do they bite?”

Something about the wicked way she smiles makes my blood pump harder. “Yes, so stay far away from them.”

“They look like the before picture on a pair of your shoes.”

Her jaw drops in outrage. “I wouldnevermake them into a pair of shoes. That’s horrible.”

A smell hits my nose and I wrinkle it, sniffing. “They stink.”

“That’s the smell of their hay. It smells fresh.”

“Smells like a barnyard. You’re not keeping them in the house.” I’m just trying to get a rise out of her now.