Page 116 of Murder

She laughs lightly. “So I’m an easy target, is that what I’m hearing?”

I reach a finger out to trace her cheekbone, smiling softly at her. “Still harder than most,” I tell her, aiming to appease.

Gwen leans over, smooths my left eyelid shut, then feathers a kiss over it.

“I’m not sure when I’ll stop being impressed with you. I hope you don’t think I’m being patronizing. It’s just like…you always hear about these badass vets, like Michael Stokes guys, and I’ve never actually known one.” Her eyes shine with kind sincerity.

I smirk. “Michael Stokes.”

“You should pose for him. People would go crazy.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. I want to tell her that I’m at my fucking worst. That I’m embarrassed by myself. By how I’ve changed. I can’t even get a bullet through a target. I can’t shoot a gun or bow, although I’m trying to relearn. But I look at Gwenna in the darkness, and I know that shit holds no weight with her.

I take her hand and bring it to my cheek, and then I press a kiss into her palm. I search her eyes for…something.

She’s not afraid to hold my gaze. Her mouth is soft and thoughtful. After a long moment, her free hand tucks a curl behind my ear.

“Who are you?” I rasp.

She smiles, and there is something bared in it. It’s like the absence of pretense. It’s like she’s smiling all for me.

I cradle her hand, bringing it back to my cheek. “You make me feel almost good,” I whisper.

“Only almost?” She strokes under my chin, and like a fucking tiger, I have to struggle not to purr.

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t even try.

“That’s a sad smile you’ve got there, B.”

I’m smiling? I move her hand off my face, but don’t let go of it. Her fingers curl around my wrist, around my hand, until she’s squeezing gently.

Fuck me.

“I’m ‘B’ now?”

She nods, smiling. “I need to shorten Barrett. I’m too lazy to use it all the time.”

“No Bear?” I give her a teasing smile.

Her own smile falters. “I didn’t know if…you’d want that.” She looks worried. I think back to why. Maybe I said something about it? That it reminded me of my time in ACE? Of Breck?

I shrug. “It works.”

She swings my hand, still wrapped in hers. “So I can call you Bear? I have my very own Bear?” I swear, she fucking giggles.

Fuck. I think I get all red like she does sometimes. I can’t help giving her a lopsided smile.

“And on that note…” She reaches behind her and holds a plate out to me, grinning like she knows she’s crazy but she doesn’t care. The plate is stacked with tacos, made in a variety of ways.

“Which ones are yours?” I can’t help laughing at the big, unruly pile.

“The ones that aren’t yours. I like literally any kind of taco. So good choice, by the way.”

We eat right there in her bed, under the twinkle of the lights. Gwen avoids the tacos with the jalapenos. I have a couple different ones, after I ask which she prefers and she answers with a poker face.

The room is filled with crunching, with the sounds of chewing. By the time we’re finished, Gwen’s area is littered with lettuce, tomato, and little bits of taco shell. Mine is spotless.

She gapes at me.

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