“She made Nurse Ratched look friendly, let me tell you, but I’m sure that none of us have been sick since so we don’t need to have her look after us.” When she laughs, I grin and press a kiss to her nose. “You like her, don’t you?”
She hitches a shoulder, but her words are shy as she mumbles, “I like them all. They’re cool.”
My grin widens as I stare into space. “Yeah. They are. Still pains in the ass though.”
“Of course.” Her sigh is wistful. “I always wanted a brother or a sister. Then, as I got older, I stopped…”
At her silence, I prompt, “Why?”
“Because if I were the older sibling, then I’d have to protect them. And if they were the older sibling, they’d have to protect me. Better for only one of us to deal with that.”
Guilt spears me yet again. It makes me drag her deeper into my hold, a move she facilitates, clinging to me as much as I cling to her.
“I bet you’d have made a great big sister,” I say to distract her, even as I feel the ticking clock making its endless goddamn countdown.
The question is—how do I protect her from Aidan Jr. and his skewed fucking morals?
I don’t know. I really don’t. If I did, I’d have dealt with this by now. But Aidan’s…Aidan. Dr. Davis did him a favor, and the Five Points always repay their debts.
Belle is a debt.
So, how the fuck do I keep her safe?
“You don’t know that,” she chides, bringing me back to the conversation.
I blink at nothing. “Seen you with my sisters.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“You fit right in.”
Her chuckle is low. “They make it easy to fit in.”
We stay in, don’t go out…That’s an option. Then, I keep her busy in bed to distract from the fact she’s in the city that never sleeps and I don’t let her leave the fucking apartment…
That might work.
She’s easy to distract, and shedoeslike my family. I get it, they’re awesome, but she looks at them through the hazy lens of someone who didn’t have to put up with them her whole life.
I’ll take it though. If it’ll keep her safe.
Hugging her tighter to me, I mutter, “They like you.”
A soft whisper of tension flutters through her. “You don’t know that.”
“I do. I do know,” I argue, then I press a kiss to her forehead. “I like you too.”
This time, she giggles. It’s childish and buoyant and it makes my grin turn dopey. “I’m glad you do,” she whispers, nestling into me in a way that feels right and natural and perfect, and yawns at the same time.
She drifts off then, starts to fall asleep.
I don’t.
My eyes are wide open as I stare out the window at the building across the street, trying to devise ways of keeping her home, of avoiding Lucas, of keeping under the radar.
God, I should never have brought her to the city.
Ever.