Page 88 of Little Bird
Even for me.
And now that I’ve flown the coop and found my own freedom, she’s furious. Here’s where we come to the other part of the text. The more important part.
I get to the end of the room, turn, and walk back the other way, letting my brain tear through the words my mother sent. She thinks I have something that belongs to her, and it’s not just my body. It’s what this body is set to inherit. The secrets that my father left to me, written into a will I don’t think my mother ever saw. He left me something she wants, and as long as I was in New York, she thought she could get it from me after I inherited it.
But now I’m out of her grasp and she’s starting to panic.
She’s going to come after it, and she’s bringing her lunatic gangster husband with her. And I don’t think she’ll stop at anything. Sure, the snow is going to slow her down a little, but it’s melting now and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be safe up here. I know I won’t be safe once she arrives.
The truth is, I’ll probably be more useful to her dead than alive. And I bet Johnny Massimo agrees with her about that.
Still, I already knew all that. This is a problem I saw coming. I’ve just been putting off dealing with it.
The thing I didn’t see coming? Her threatening Gunner and Gabe.
And as it turns out, that right there is the one thing I don’t have a plan for. It’s also the one thing I won’t accept.
I wonder if she actually knows I’m up here or if she’s just taking shots in the dark, trying to get me to admit to something. She’s crazy if she thinks I’ll answer her, but she’s so used to pushing me around that I doubt she’s realized I’m capable of standing up for myself.
Not giving in to her demands.
So she has another thing coming. Because I’m not going to tell her anything, and I’m already executing a plan that will outsmart her. As long as my attorney hurries those papers through and I get them signed and registered before she finds me...
Does she even know I’m up here? Probably not.
But it’s just a matter of time until she finds out.
And then I’ll be battling her in person, and Gunner and Gabe will be at risk.
It’s not a risk I’m willing to take. I love them both too much for that, and I will never—never—put them at risk for my own safety.
So it’s time to come up with another plan. A better one.
One that protects the men I love.
I burst out of my room, unwilling to stay penned in there any longer, and run right into an enormous, immovable object in the hallway. I bounce off and hit the wall before the set of hands attached to said object reach out and snatch at me, and when I look up, ready to shout at someone, I see Gabe nearly crying with laughter.
“What are you doing, trying to start a war?”
It takes me a moment to pull myself out of my panic about my mother and back into the Hawke household, but once I do, my annoyance transfers right to the mountain of a man who was standing in my way when I tried to get out of my room.
“Yes, Gabe, I’m trying to start a war by running you over.”
He tries to get serious and straighten his lips, but it doesn’t work. He’s definitely about to start laughing again, and I can see the moisture building up in his eyes from holding it in.
“I’m glad you find me attacking you so amusing,” I say.
But my lips want to smile and I can feel the laughter bubbling up in my throat, too. And it feels so good to have the option of laughing right now—such a relief after my mother’s text—that I let it loose. Gabe starts to laugh as well, and soon we’re howling with laughter in the hallway, propping each other up and wiping at the tears on our cheeks. I don’t know why he’s laughing so hard at something that’s really not that funny, but I have a feeling that as usual, he’s just like me.
He needs the laughter so he can hide from something he doesn’t want to look at.
And though I’m pretty sure I know what he doesn’t want to look at, I pretend I don’t, and keep right on laughing.
When we’re done and both flushed and breathless, I look at him suspiciously. He’s dressed like he’s on his way outside, with a coat and boots and hat, and that doesn’t match the fact that he’s in the house and right outside my door.
“What were you doing right outside my door, anyhow?” I ask. “Spying on me? Is this—” I gesture up and down his body. “—Your designated spy gear? Because I don’t think those boots are built for sneaking.”
He suddenly grows aloof and cocky. “Of course this is my spy gear. It drowns out all the sound.”
