Page 22 of This Wild Heart

I smiled. “You must be Willa.”

Her whole face appeared, and even though her coloring wasn’t anything like Anya’s, I saw a hint of her older sister in the shape of her mouth and the straight line of her nose.

In Willa’s arms was the fattest orange cat I’d ever seen in my life. She hefted him up as she wandered into the room, his tail swishing lazily over the arm she used to support his considerable girth.

“This is Spike,” she stated. “He’s Anya’s cat, so you’re gonna have to take him with you.”

She turned slightly, revealing a very disgruntled face and one arm slung awkwardly over her shoulder. I tilted my head. “Is he missing one of his front legs?”

“Yeah,” Willa sighed, plopping on the floor and rearranging the cat’s body in her lap. His bright golden eyes locked with mine, his ears flattened, and he let out a low hiss of warning. Willa patted him on the head. “She’s fostered him for a year. No one wanted him because he’s fat and mean and only has three legs, so she decided to keep him. My dad calls him the devil cat.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he does.” I eyed the beast warily. “You’re not afraid of him?”

Willa shook her head, tangled braid whipping over her shoulder to whack the cat in the head. “I’m not afraid of anything,” she pronounced firmly. “Mom says my lack of fear is”—she paused to narrow her eyes—“terrifying as hell.”

My brows furrowed. “She said that to you?”

“No.” Willa lowered her face, and the cat bumped his forehead against hers. “But I hear lots of things I’m not supposed to.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “Like you married Anya and kept it a secret, and everyone is really mad.”

I sat up. “That’s not what?—”

“My dad will probably beat you up,” she announced, eyes wide and innocent. “He’s very strong.”

Nervously, I glanced at the door, where the low hum of voices had calmed down a bit. “He said he was going to beat me up?”

“No. But when he gets mad, there’s this line on his face right here.” She tapped her own forehead and tried to look up, crossing her eyes in the process. “It getsreallybig.”

“That’s great.” I rubbed a hand over my neck. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Willa. Even if I’m about to get my ass kicked.”

She giggled. “You could always fight him back. You look strong.”

“I don’t do that kind of fighting in my job. Pretty sure he’d have me in a sleeper hold before I could blink.”

Her brows furrowed briefly. “He’d probably just punch you first. Keep your fists up by your temples, arms tucked in, and don’t let him elbow you in the face.” Then she shrugged. “You’ll do okay as long as he doesn’t get to your kidneys.”

I laid my head back on the couch and tried to steady my breathing. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about. Maybe you could show me a few things.”

“Okay!”

I lifted my head and blinked. She’d shoved the cat off her lap and stood in the middle of the room, one foot in front of the other and her fists up like she’d told me. “Come on, we don’t have much time.” Willa motioned hurriedly. “Do you know how to throw a punch? I’mreallystrong. I punched a kid the last week of school because he was mean to everyone, and I gave him a nosebleed.” At my raised eyebrows, she sighed, arms dropping slightly. “They suspended me for one day, but it was totally worth it. Mom said I can’t make a habit out of it, but she still let me get ice cream on the way home.”

A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. “You’d get along with my sister Greer.”

Her eyes lit up. “Does she punch people too?”

“Only in her deepest fantasies,” I answered gravely.

“Cool,” Willa breathed. “My dad put me in soccer because he thought a sport where I can’t tackle people would be good for me, but I kept knocking people over anyway.”

“They generally frown upon that, yeah. How come you kept doing it?”

“Well, I don’t want to lose.” She shrugged. “Don’t you ever break the rules when you play football?”

I leaned forward and braced my elbows on my knees. “Sometimes. Every now and then, we have to take a calculated risk. Do you know what that means?”

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