Page 161 of Murder

I don’t press for details, just cuddle him and say a silent prayer. A few minutes later, I feel his body slacken against mine.

A few hours later, I wake up in Barrett’s lap, with his mouth brushing over mine.

I smile. He smiles down at me.

“Wake up, buttercup.”

I snuggle up against his chest. “It’s too…sunny.”

Barrett laughs. “You’re cute, Piglet.” I feel his lips press against my forehead. “I’ve gotta say bye to Kelly,” he says softly. “Want to walk over with me?”

“For sure.”

In front of Barrett’s house, I hug Kellan and Cleo, then watch as Barrett hugs them both. He squeezes Kellan tightly and pats Cleo’s back as he hugs her.

“Be safe. Let us know how the driving goes.”

I’m giddy that he said us, so as they get into Kellan’s car and we sit on the steps together, I’m hiding a big smile behind one hand.

I watch them load up as Barrett’s fingers thread through mine. Kellan, like Barrett, is protective, his hand brushing Cleo’s shoulder even as she hoists herself into the SUV. I see him smile at her before he closes the door, and it’s like the smile I get from Barrett sometimes—pure sweetness.

I’m surprised when Barrett gets up one more time as Kellan walks around the car to get into the driver’s side. The two clasp in a firm guy hug. I can’t tell who hugs whom harder, but it’s wonderful to see. They both look calm and bright-eyed when they pull away. Satisfied, I think.

Kellan grins and slaps his brother’s arm one more time. “Take care, B.”

“You too, little bro.” Bear pulls his brother close and I think I hear him say, “I’ll do it.”

I find out later what he means he’ll do is see a counselor. I’m pleasantly surprised that, at some point last night, Kellan mentioned the idea to Barrett. Bear tells me both Kelly and Cleo had “some issues” after what they went through with the bone marrow transplant, so they were both “seeing a shrink.”

I flash him a knowing smile. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“What’s yours’ name?” he asks, a glint of skepticism in his eyes.

“Helga. And actually, I see her tomorrow. Would you like me to ask her for the name of someone who works with veterans?”

Barrett leans his head against the couch’s back and blinks up at the ceiling. His eyes glide to mine. “What would I do?” he asks in a quiet, low voice. “If I went?”

I deadpan, “Well, the first thing is the physical. You’ll just undress, and he or she will check for—”

His eyes get so wide, so fast, I can’t help laughing, which morphs into howling. Barrett wraps his arm around my neck, scoots so close he’s almost sitting on my thigh, and gives me a gentle noogie.

“Liar, liar…” He chuckles, pulling me into his lap.

“Pants on fire?” I offer.

His gaze darkens. “You want that?”

“I always do,” I whisper shyly.

Barrett sprawls me over his lap, like a naughty student with a very dirty-minded schoolmaster, and fingers me until I’m desperate, almost miserable. Then he throws my fleece over the rug, urges me down onto my hands and knees, and enters me from behind.

Bliss of the highest order…

God, I think I’ll die before I come.

And afterward, a shower. And after that, we make omelets, and then I spend hours showing him how to make bread, and making the bread into bread pudding.

When we go to bed that night, Barrett nods off wrapped in my arms while I read something on my phone, over his shoulders. When he’s solidly asleep, I turn the twinkle lights on, pull the weighted blanket to the bottom of the bed, go into the kitchen, and pour lemonade. Kellan told me Bear hates lemonade, so if he wakes up dissociating, I plan to offer him a sip and watch his face scrunch back into the present.

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