Page 81 of Fierce Love
I lean against the counter and give her a slow smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But it’s probably not the first time Hollyn and I haven’t separated quite quickly enough, or my hands have found some part of Hollyn’s body when they shouldn’t have, or hers have grazed some part of me in passing. We have gotten quite comfortable with each other, and I’m sure thatisobvious. When we’re all over each other whenever Kinsley isn’t around—which is a lot between her training, the friends she’s made, and her long walks around the property with Henry—it’s hard to remember to lock our connection down when she’s around.
Or at least it’s hard for me. Frequently hard.So fucking hard.
“I’m just saying,” Kinsley says, “you don’t have to pretend. No one’s fooled.”
“I was thinking I should get back over to Aunt Verna’s place to finish cleaning it out soon,” Hollyn says, directing her comment to Kinsley. “What works for you?”
“No, thanks,” Kinsley says. “Can’t you just hire someone to finish that?”
“Kin!” Hollyn’s expression is dumbfounded.
“I’m not like you,” Kinsely says. “I can’t pretend to be fine when we’re deciding what parts of Aunt Verna’s life go in the garbage.”
My breath comes out in a huff at the sharpness of Kinsley’s tone, which I so rarely hear directed at Hollyn anymore. Some middle ground between the two has to exist. Hollyn’s emotional defenses were well-earned, even if Kinsley doesn’t understand them. The scars are literally still littered across Hollyn’s body.
“I’ll help,” I say. “I don’t mind helping.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Hollyn says. “Aunt Verna wasourrelative.” Her focus is lasered on Kinsley, who won’t meet her gaze. “Sometimes, we have to do hard, painful things for people we love, Kin. That’s just life.”
“Next Sunday, after training,” Kin says, sweeping Henry into her arms and heading for the stairs.
Once she’s gone, Hollyn turns back to the dishes in the sink. “I really hate that she just gave such an entitled response.”
“I mean, Icouldhire someone, if you wanted. She’s not wrong.”
“If she really thinks we’re deciding what aspects of my aunt’s life to put in the trash, that’s even more of a reason it should be a family member who cares, right?”
“I also see your point.”
“Don’t be diplomatic. Just tell me I’m right,” Hollyn says, puffing out an annoyed breath.
“Youareright,” I say. “If I died tomorrow, I’d want someone who cared about me to go through my things—even if it was just to remember who I was.”
“Don’t…” Hollyn turns and faces me. There’s anguish in her expression. “The idea of anything happening to you. Don’t ever use that example again, okay?”
I draw her into a hug, and she clutches on to me, pressing her face against my chest.
“How about I help you next Saturday and Kin can help next Sunday? That work?”
“Yeah,” she says against my shirt. She rises on her toes and presses a kiss to my cheek. “I love you,” she whispers into my ear. “Truly. So much.”
When she goes to step away, I tilt her chin and kiss her, cupping her jaw as I deepen it. On two occasions, I’ve heard her admit the depth of her feelings, and I’m really praying that I keep getting to unearth them for years to come.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I step away, knowing we can’t do much more with Kinsley in the house.
On my home screen is a text from Owen.
They just picked up Mickie and Niall. They got him as an accessory to some of her charges. Should be enough to ensure she’s gone for a good, long while, according to Stephen.
I stand staring into space for a beat, relief flooding through me. At least that hurdle will be gone now.
Should I keep security?
I would until after the various trials. She’s vindictive. If she knows you led this, there might be problems.
Okay. Thanks, Owen.
“What’s going on? Something wrong with production? We’ve only got two episodes left. What could possibly be inspiring that expression?”
