Page 57 of Halo (Fallen Angel 1)

Mhmm, exactly. So much for thinking I wasn’t going to show. She knew better.

After I hung up my coat, I walked across the parquet-floor dining room to the newly renovated, but small, kitchen, and when I stepped inside, my mom was right there holding out a glass of whiskey.

“Get that in you. It’ll warm you up.”

I grinned at her and threw back the smooth amber liquid that did exactly as she predicted, then gestured to the two plates on the counter with a tilt of my head. “Insane coming out here tonight, huh? Then who you cooking for?”

“Not you, if you keep giving me lip.”

I chuckled and leaned back against the counter, placing the glass down beside me as she pulled open the third drawer and grabbed a pair of bright yellow oven mitts that had seen better days.

“You know the only way I won’t be here on a Monday is if I’m—”

“Out of the state, country, or if the city has been shut down due to a natural disaster.” She rolled her eyes. “I know. But some might classify this amount of snow as a natural disaster.”

“Eh.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then they didn’t grow up in New York, did they?”

“Yeah, okay.” She laughed. “You’re real tough until you catch a cold. Then you act as though you’re dying and who has to deal with it? Me, because Killian is—”

“An asshole?”

“David.” She smacked me in the chest with her oven mitt. “That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say that he’s far too smart to put up with you when you’re being miserable and whiny. Plus, Killian’s a doll. Always has been.”

I thought about my conversation with Killian on Friday, the one where he’d questioned me about Halo and frowned. “Yeah, he’s a real peach.”

Mom narrowed her eyes, but before she could say anything, a timer buzzed and she turned off the oven. As she pulled open the oven door, the delicious aroma of breaded chicken cutlets wafted out into the kitchen, and she took out a baking dish covered in aluminum foil.

“Okay, what did you two argue about this time?”

“Huh?”

Mom uncovered the baking dish, grabbed the pot with her sauce in it, and spooned some of it on top of the chicken. “You and Killian. You seem…irritated.”

“Nope. This is my standard mood.”

“No, it’s not. Not when you’re here. Pass me the cheese, would you?”

I picked up the small bowl of grated cheese and handed it to her, and once she’d sprinkled it over the top and placed the baking dish under the broiler, she rounded on me and gestured for my empty glass.

After she refilled it, she asked again, “What’d you two argue about?”

“Nothing.” When it was clear she wasn’t about to let that be the end of that, I elaborated in the vaguest way possible. “We just had a disagreement about the new guy.”

“Oh.” She drained the pasta in the sink and then looked over her shoulder at me. “Angel, right?”

As Halo’s stunning face came to mind, and the sexy way he’d moaned into my mouth every time it’d been under mine recently, I smiled against the glass. I was starting to think that nickname was all wrong for him, because the more confident he became, the more his “angelic” side was falling away.

“Yeah, but his name’s Halo.” When Mom frowned, I said, “I just call him Angel.”

“Ah. And why do you call him Angel?”

“Stop being nosy, woman. You’ll understand when you see him.”

“Mhmm…”

“Anyway. Yeah, Kill and I had a disagreement about him.” Like whether I was allowed to put my dick in him.

“Nothing major, I hope?”

I knew she was trying to be subtle, but it was obvious she was asking if it was something we’d be able to get past or something like…Trent. I thought back to the way Killian and I had left things and shook my head.

“Nothing major. We’re cool, promise.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

I held three fingers up. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Scout. They would’ve kicked your butt out the first week in.”

“Hey. What are you tryin’ to say?”

“Just that you’re stubborn and don’t like to follow rules.” Mom opened up the broiler and pulled the chicken out. “You like doing things your own way, not as a group. Unless it’s to help someone, then maybe you’d go along with it.”

She was right. I hated following anyone’s lead, which was her own fault, I was quick to point out. There was no one more independent and strong-willed than my mom. Something I was extremely proud and grateful for. But like me, she could be stubborn as a bull.

Case in point: she still lived in the same little house I’d grown up in, even though I’d offered to buy her a bigger, newer place anywhere in the world her heart desired. But she insisted that her heart was right here. In this quiet little street where she knew her friends and neighbors.

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