It’s not until we’re halfway back to the house that Livvy says something.
“Lexi. I have to say, not everyone will be as understanding as Mal and Cal. In fact, most people won’t be.” She pushes the front door open and closes it behind me when I’m inside. “Now, I’m not saying you need to lie to people, but maybe just don’t go telling them your whole life story in the first five seconds of meeting them?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It just comes out, I can’t help it. When I’m nervous I tend to word vomit and it doesn’t matter how many times I try to stop it, I just can’t.” I twist my hands together nervously.
“Listen, lovely. I’m not telling you off. I just want you to be able to have the best start here as possible and that means letting people know you before you tell them all the gory details.” She smiles reassuringly and rubs my arm. “People will love you for you, Lexi. They don’t need to judge you solely on your past. Let them see you. The real you. Not the one that you’ve had to be for the last five years.”
“I understand.” I really do understand. I get what she’s saying because as soon as someone hears where I’ve spent the last five years, they’re going to instantly judge who I am without even getting to know me.
“Now go and get a good night’s rest. We have gardening to do tomorrow.”
I step forward, my body working on automatic as I wrap my arms around Livvy. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime,” she chokes back, rubbing her hand up and down my back before I pull away and spin around, heading toward my room.
I click on the screen, enlarging the live image feed and keeping my eyes on the doors. We’ve been sitting here for three hours now, watching and waiting for any suspicious activity. We’re not really sure what or who we’re watching for, but the art gallery has been put on high alert as they’re having the “âme perdue” moved here from New York. Which means that we’re here “unofficially” trying to catch something before it actually happens.
Luke is next to me, his back ramrod straight as he watches the feed with me. It’s not often that Luke and I get to work with each other, at least, not on our own anyway. But since Dean has arrived, Luke and Kitty haven’t been going on as many jobs as they normally would. I can’t work out if Luke is jealous of Dean or whether he still feels guilty having not known Kitty was addicted and going through a really hard time.
He’s not exactly the kind of guy who you can talk to about feelings and shit, but I decide to give it a go, what could it hurt?
“So…” I bite my lip and keep my eyes on the screen, watching as a man dressed in a pair of jeans and dark-blue shirt walks into the big art building, looking over his shoulder as he goes. I mentally mark that as the first sign that something is going on. “What do you think of Dean?” I ask, writing down a description of the man and the time he’s entered the building.
Luke makes a noise in the back of his throat, not really decipherable.
“He’s pretty cool,” I comment.
“Don’t know him, still don’t trust him,” Luke answers, his tone gruff.
I flit my eyes from the screen back to him and try to see what he means but his face gives nothing away, even his eyes are guarded.
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” I say, leaning back in the seat and flicking the lid of my pen on and off with the pad of my thumb.
He raises a brow and turns toward me, his knees nearly touching mine in the back of the small van that I’ve kitted out. Every wall contains some kind of electrical device: the screen between the back and the two front seats is bulletproof, as well as the extra insulation I added to the inside. The last thing we need is to be shot at and not be protected.
When I think about the cost of all of the equipment in this one vehicle, it makes me cringe that we’re out in the open. Not that anyone could tell from the outside that it was anything but a normal van.
We have it spray-painted once a month so that people can’t track it. Always be one step ahead, that’s my motto. Even though we do our best to go incognito, you never know if someone is watching you, waiting to strike.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Luke finally grunts, his eyes flashing in warning before he turns back around toward the screen.
“Yeah you do,” I say, twisting back toward the screen as well. “But it’s okay, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.”
“Jesus, Evan. I’m not a fucking woman, I don’t want to sit and talk about my feelings.” He runs his hands through his blond hair and down his face. “Just leave it alone.”
“Gotcha.” I smirk at him and hold my hand out, ready to do my secret handshake. The handshake that means I’ve got your back.
Luke looks down at my hand and shakes his head emphatically. “I’m not doing it.”
I don’t say a word, I wiggle my fingers at him instead, taunting him. He knows that once I put my hand out for the handshake that there’s no way I’m going to move it until he’s done it.
He narrows his eyes at me, huffing out a breath angrily. “Fuck’s sake.” He places his hand in mine and I shake it like a normal hands
hake and then pull it back, curling the tips of my fingers around his before letting go and bumping his fist with mine. I then hold my hand up for a high five, slapping palms and then wiggling my fingers down while making a noise that sounds like “Wooooowwweeee.”
I can see the smile kick up the corners of his lips. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he loves the secret handshake.
“I got your back, man.”