Page 66 of Only the Devil
“After.”
Following her directions, I lean under the shower spray to wet my hair. She drapes a towel over my shoulders and runs a comb through the strands. She sits me so I’m in front of the bathroom sink, back to the mirror.
“Wouldn’t be sitting here if I didn’t trust you,” I say. Though trusting anyone with a blade this close isn’t usually my style.
She gets to work, combing and clipping.
“So you did this for your sister? She’s younger, right?”
“Yeah. She lived with her dad mostly, but when she stayed with me, we’d cut each other’s hair. Kind of our thing for a while.”
“Did you ever stay with your dad?”
She shifts behind me, standing close enough that I can feel her body heat at my back.
“Nope.”
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I hear tension in that one word. I’m about to ask when she turns the tables.
“What’s your dad like?” she asks, snipping carefully. “Does he look like you?”
“Yeah. A lot like me. But I’ve got my mom’s eyes.”
“Do you have a picture?”
My phone’s on the counter, on top of my shirt. I grab it, pull up a photo from Christmas a few years back, and hand it over. She studies it, swallows, then passes it back.
“It’s a beautiful family,” she says softly, and the tone makes something twist inside me.
“Don’t get to see them as much as I’d like. But they’re good people.”
“What was the Navy like?”
“That’s a loaded question.”
“Is it?” she asks, catching most of the hair she cuts and tossing it in the trash.
“The good parts—my team.” I pause, searching for a word that fits. “Family.”
“Did you do dangerous stuff?”
“The answer’s yes, but that’s stuff you don’t want in your head.”
She slows, moving to stand in front of me. Her hands brush through my hair, then over my jaw, her thumb tracing the corner of my mouth. “But it’s in yours,” she says quietly.
“Yeah. Goes with the territory.”
“You miss it?”
“I do.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Not my choice. Medical discharge. A minor thing. Long QT. I’ve got meds. In all likelihood, I’ll go on living without it ever bothering me. Not worth talking about, but they’re sticklers.”
“But you’re not in any kind of medical danger?”
“No.” I’d say more, but it’s not something I want to talk about.
