Page 32 of Tattletale

I want to call Lance and melt into him. I could fall apart on his shoulder, comforted by his strong embrace. Then again, I also want to line Lance’s head up with a target board and let a few rounds from my pistol loose.

I hate him.

But I miss him…

He’s dead to me.

But I can’t just turn off love…

“Cricket?” Eden’s standing in the doorway, holding a tray. Far too lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even hear her open the door. “You can stay with us as long as you like, but I’m putting my foot down. You have to eat.”

“Thanks, love.” I shake my head. “But I’m sorry, I’m just not hungry.”

“That’s what you said yesterday, and the day before.” Her eyebrows arch.

“Yet you’re still finding it so hard to believe.” I hold her stare. If she thinks the mom-scold look she’s giving me is intimidating, she’s wildly incorrect.

Eden rolls her eyes. She steps into the guest room and sets the tray down on the dresser, opposite the bed. “I thought you’d continue to be stubborn today.” She crosses her arms. “We can do this the easy way…”

“Or?” I ask with a little smirk.

“Or the Linc-holds-you-down-while-I-force-feed-you way.”

I scoff. “And where is Linc?”

“Right outside waiting for my command.” Eden narrows her eyes and smiles.

“Mhmm.”

“He’s actually out walking Mouse. We’re trying to train him to walk off-leash.”

Mouse is Eden and Linc’s rambunctious Malinois puppy. I’ve been hiding out in their home for over a week. In that time, they think they’ve miraculously trained Mouse to suddenly sleep on his mat in the living room at night. He’s actually been sneaking in here after they go to sleep. I let him under the covers. He’s a sorry excuse for a guard dog, but an excellent cuddler.

“How’s off-leash training going?”

“About as successful as getting you to eat,” Eden sasses back.

“You’re relentless.” I pull the covers off my bare legs. Patting the firm mattress, I invite Eden to sit down next to me. She grabs the tray and gracefully crosses the room. Whatever is in that bowl smells good enough to tickle my appetite to life.

“Not to brag, but this didn’t come from a can. Made it from scratch,” Eden says as she sets the tray down and picks up the silver soup spoon. “Chicken noodle. My dad’s recipe.”

“Smells nice.” I lean down to inhale the salty, aromatic broth.

“He would make it for me every time I was sick or…sad.”

I lift my eyes, flashing Eden a look. “I’m not sad.”

“I didn’t say you were…”

“I’m angry.”

Eden wiggles the spoon. “Fine. It’s angry soup, then. Eat up.”

“You’re getting a little braver and pushier around assassins, you know that?” I take the utensil from her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says.

Eden watches me intently as I pick up the utensil and deposit a spoonful of broth, sliced carrot, and a chunk of chicken into my mouth. “This is really good.”

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