Page 125 of Smith

“Oh, no, Miss Edna had a heart attack. What a shame,” Brittney said like the woman was her friend and not someone who waged psychological warfare on her family.

Oh, yeah, my head was going to explode.

To stop this from happening I looked at my father and smirked.

“I was right, the letters didn’t mean anything.”

The room went deathly silent.

My father scowled at me.

Zane grunted.

“Too soon?” I tried to backpedal my poorly landed joke.

“Yeah, way too fucking soon,” Smith growled. “And if you’re wondering, there will never be a time when it won’t be too soon.”

Jeez.

“Aye-aye, Sailor.”

“Can I please make dinner tonight?”

We’d just walked into Smith’s house after our outing. Truth be told, I was exhausted but I hadn’t cooked in nearly a month and I wanted to do something for Smith and my dad.

“Not tonight.”

This was getting seriously ridiculous.

I felt Smith needed to know this, so after I tossed my purse on the couch, I told him, “This is ridiculous. I can stand at the stove and brown meat for tacos.”

“You could, or you could sit with your dad and look at houses while I make tacos.”

Seriously, I loved this man, he didn’t miss my thinly veiled request for tacos.

“I’m not ready to buy another house. I have to sell the one your friends?—”

“Ourfriends,” he interrupted to correct.

“Okay. I have to sell the houseourfriends finished before I buy another one. And next time, I’m having Kira crawl up the sellers’ behinds so I don’t get stuck with a meth lab next.”

“Smart,” my dad said as he passed by me on his way to the kitchen.

It was strange that it had taken so long for me to notice, but my dad moved around Smith’s house like he would mine. He wasn’t a guest in Smith’s home. He was family. It was a given he was welcome to make himself at home. Something my dad felt comfortable doing.

“We haven’t talked about it,” Smith began before he led me to sit on the couch.

“Talked about what?”

Instead of Smith sitting next to me, he sat in the chair across from the couch. I didn’t have the best feeling about this conversation if it required physical space between us.

“This place. Your house. Where we’re gonna live.”

Butterflies erupted in my belly.

“Where we’re gonna live?” I cautiously asked.

“If you want to move back into your house, I promise I’ll try. I know you love it there. But straight up, the last time I was in that house…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I don’t know if I can unsee what I saw.”

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