Page 85 of When It Reins
Likely, she feels the way my muscles have tightened and that I have a very slim grasp on my temper.
Mick speaks then, “Yeah, so we’re doing some recon to see what’s going on.”
I turn my gaze at him, glaring at him, but I don’t give a shit. He knows what I’m thinking already. Whoever did this is going to pay.
I run through a list in my head of who could be responsible. It could be a rival club, but how did they know where I live? It could have been someone I tossed out of the bar one night while working, but again, it was rare that anyone knew where I was living.
There is another thought, one I don’t want to entertain, or even think about doing again. But it lives there.
What if…what if he came back? What if he was stupid enough to venture back to our part of town and send a message, or just do something to get back at me for being a part of the group that shut down his little project?
“Mick, send a couple of guys over to Juniper’s apartment.” There is something stirring in my gut, something that tells me my thoughts are on the right track, that I am thinking the right thing when it comes to who is responsible.
He nods his head as if he is already thinking what I am.
Juniper frowns at me. “Why?”
I try to soften my gaze and look back at her. “I think Aaron is back.”
Her frown turns more confused, and she asks, “Who the hell is Aaron?”
40
juniper
So,apparently, I was lied to even more than I thought, just not by Mitch.
Finding out that David was an alias this entire time, and his true name is Aaron, should have been more surprising than I feel it is.
He was—is—a liar.
I’m grateful to be rid of him. Well…almost.
Mitch is pretty sure that’s who threw whatever contraption into the cabin and burned it down. Then he received a message that there had been a package waiting for me at my apartment with no note or anything on it.
I guess there was some moral compass in Aaron if he decided that setting an entire building on fire wasn’t the way to go.
After we were released from the hospital, we both had no safe place to go, which is how we ended up at my sister’s and his brother’s house.
I’m currently sitting on a couch, the rough leather cool against hot skin. I feel hot ever since the fire, and I don’t know if it’s a mental reaction or real, but after everything that hashappened, it was hard to discern what was real versus what was anxiety.
My nephew toddles around the living room, bringing various toys to each person. Thea sits on the floor by the armchair Logan is sitting on the edge of, giving her baby boy excited faces every time he hands her something.
Luella is sitting by the couch, rapid-firing questions at Mitch, who, despite his normal disposition, is answering her thoroughly without fail. Seems Mitch has a favorite girl, after all, and it is his sixteen-year-old niece.
However, his hand is on the top of my foot, holding it gently while I sit here with an iced tea and listen to everyone talk.
I am tired.
I need to talk to Mitch privately, but I’m going to have to wait until that time comes, which might be a while.
Since he awoke in the hospital and found me there, he hasn’t stopped touching me. There is a piece of his skin that is always touching a piece of mine. Caressing my foot, rubbing his thumb over my hand, tucking hair behind my ear, holding onto the back of my neck. Every single instance is initiated by him, and it is as if not touching me means I am going to disappear.
I don’t mind, obviously. There is just so much I want to say to him, so much that I want to clear away that I didn’t at the hospital. We’d both been too relieved that the other person was okay, that we are both alive to even talk, that we just blurted out our apologies and clung to each other.
That’s okay, though, for now.
I’m not going to complain about his need to be near me, because I’m feeling the exact same way.
