Page 93 of Virago

The AC kicked on, and a cool breeze danced over her bare, sweaty body. Goosebumps rose along its path.

Zaxx pulled the throw from the back of the sofa, covering them both as he shifted her from his lap and laid her down. He tucked himself beside her, wedged on his side against the back of the sofa. The fit was snug, which made it perfect. Gia snuggled under the blanket, within his arms, against his perfect chest. Zaxx closed her up tightly, tucking her head beneath his chin.

She felt sleep crawling upward through her limbs and didn’t push it away. This moment was perfect. She was content, right here, wrapped up with Zaxx. Cared for. Protected. Safe.

He seemed equally inclined to stay put and let the night fade away.

And then, as Gia felt sleep begin to claim her consciousness, Zaxx whispered, “Gia?”

“Mmm?” She held off oblivion for one more moment.

“This is something, isn’t it? Something real.”

Maybe with her brain fully engaged, Gia would have considered the last time he’d said words like that, what he’d done almost immediately thereafter, and now would have found a fortified position before she answered. Words to say that were true but didn’t give too much away, words that guarded against another ghosting. But her brain was not fully engaged—and anyway, she’d already given him more than she’d ever given anyone.

She’d told him she trusted him. Implicitly. She hadn’t lied. Zaxx had earned back her trust.

So she spoke the simple truth. “Yes. It’s something real.”

Then, safe and snug in this man’s—her man’s—arms, Gia slept.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The red oak tree beside Darwin’s gate blazed with vivid crimson. News reports were calling this fall color the best in a generation; Zaxx sure couldn’t remember a more flamboyant landscape. A long summer had melded into an autumn with bright, pleasant days and cool, crisp nights and set the woods alight. It wasn’t even October yet, the leaves hadn’t reached their peak, but damn, the world was pretty right now.

Even today, when his mood was low, Zaxx could appreciate the view. He turned in at that fiery explosion and rode through the open gate.

Darwin’s place was about five acres of brush and scruff, the last castoff lot of an old farm sell-off. He’d bought a set of house plans online and, with the beer-bought assistance of most of the Horde, he’d built himself a little cabin and dropped a prefab garage twice its size beside it.

Until the summer, Zaxx could have counted on one hand the number of times he’d been on Darwin’s property for something personal. Since July, he’d been out here every week or two.

Doofus was buried here.

Maybe it was stupid, visiting his grave so often, but Zaxx missed the shit out of that dog. He’d given up his lease—that trailer never could have been his home again—and there was nowhere else he could feel Doof with him but here, where his body lay under a stone etched with his name.

Darwin understood and had given him a key to the gate and an open invitation to visit whenever he wanted. He tried to come when Darwin was around, though. It felt like an intrusion to simply help himself onto the property, invite notwithstanding.

As Zaxx pulled up to the garage, Darwin stood up from where he’d been kneeling near the base of his porch. He was planting something. At the end of September?

“Hey, brother!” Darwin called, strolling over as Zaxx dismounted.

“Hey, Dar. What’re you planting?”

Darwin looked back toward the upheaved earth he’d been kneeling at. “Bulbs. Daffodils and crocuses.”

A tinge of sheepishness colored his explanation, but Zaxx didn’t give him shit for planting flowers. He’d had flowerbeds all around his house, when he had a house. That kind of care turned a set of walls into a home.

These days, Zaxx lived at the clubhouse. It was home to the Night Horde, yes. But for one patch, there was no way to turn that set of walls into a home.

Probably he should look for another place, one he could make into a home, but he was holding off, hoping for another option. Things with Gia were really great, growing steadily deeper. The Word had not yet been spoken by either of them, but that was beginning to feel like a mere formality—to him, at least.

He spent at least half his nights in her bed, and each one was perfect. They had a rhythm to their relationship, a way of knowing each other and being together that was comfortable and safe but also exciting and vibrant. They fit each other exactly right; he’d never experienced anything like it before.

He’d like to be invited to spend all his nights with her. It hadn’t happened yet; when it did, maybe that would be the right time to say aloud the thing he thought daily: He was in love with her.

Today would have been easier with Gia along, but she was out of town this weekend, doing research at the library at Mizzou.

“I love daffodils,” Zaxx said, pulling himself out of his head. “They’ll look great against the brown siding of the house.”

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