Page 40 of Property of Bones

“I guess you’re right,” I sigh. “But we can’t stay at my apartment. For one, I’m told you broke my door down, and two, it’s averysmall space. You’d crowd it with your ego alone.”

He actually smirks. “Guess it’s settled then. You’re coming home with me.”

“Does your place have snacks? Because I’m gonna need comfort food, pain meds, and maybe a fuzzy blanket if I’m expected to survive this whole ‘being drugged, broken ribs and babysitter’ situation.”

“I’ve got it all covered, baby. Even the blanket. But it’s not fuzzy and it’s black.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Yeah, we’re definitely going to need to have a talk about your color scheme.”

Then it hits me. “Wait… don’t you live in the compound? With Riley and Abby?”

I shake my head. “Oh no, I can’t go there. That place is packed full of badbutt biker people. And I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I’m not evenremotelybadbutt. Not even, like…dietbadbutt. Think of the least badbutt person you know, add frosting, a bow, maybe a sparkly sticker or two and I’m still three glittery steps beneath that.”

“Bad…butt?”

“See? I can’t even curse properly. Just drop me off at a nursing home and sign me over to the state. At least there, people expect you to act like a child in a toy store, and I won’t get weird stares.” I pause, then add seriously, “That’s something else you should know before doing that whole caveman-claiming thing. People stare at me all the time. Like…allthe time. It’s because I’ve got a‘too-much’gene. But I like being this way. I don’t mind the stares. But you might.”

“Sunny, what on earth are you going on about?” Riley asks as she steps around Spike.

Jack steps closer, his brows drawn but his eyes soft. “You done?” he asks, voice low and raspy. “Or you got more sparkly stickers to add to that little speech?”

I blink at him, not sure if he’s teasing or mad.

But then he crouches in front of me, his big hands gentle as they reach for mine. “I don’t care if people stare. Let ‘em. You shine bright, baby. You weremeantto stand out. And if anyone’s got a problem with that, I have a few knives that I’ve been wanting to break in.”

My breath catches, because dang, that was kinda poetic for a man who once grunted his entire way through a conversation. Butknives?

“I don’t need abadbuttwoman,” he adds, squeezing my hands. “I needyou. With your bright colors, smiles, frosting, and too-much gene. You make the world brighter just by walkinginto a room. And me? I’ve been stuck in the dark so long, I forgot what light even looked like… until you.”

My heart’s beating so loud, I’m pretty sure the nurses down the hall can hear it.

Jack leans in, brushing his forehead against mine like I’m something sacred. “So, no more talk about nursing homes or being too much. You’re just right, Sunny. You’remine. And I’ll take all the glitter you come with.”

“I hate glitter,” I whisper my truth. “I only like the kind on clothes that doesn’t fall off and get all over everything.”

“Noted,” he says backing away a bit. “Now, will you stop all this nonsense and let me take you home?”

“That depends,” I say, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes at him. “Is your whole house black? Because if I walk in there only to find myself in a black void, I’m turning around and going back to the hospital. I’ll fake a heart flutter. Don’t test me.”

Jack huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You are absolutely exhausting.”

“Thank you,” I beam, like he just told me I won an award. “It’s one of my better qualities.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like“adorably insane”and then threads his fingers through mine. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home before you talk your way into another medical emergency.”

“Rude,” I mutter as he helps me up. “Also, fair.”

“Wait, you’re coming to the compound?” Riley asks, her eyes lighting up. “Heck yeah! Bones lives one house down from us. That’s like, ten seconds away. And Abby’s on my other side. Oh! Maybe you can talk Bones into letting us paint his door. We’re trying to make all the doors different colors.”

“Is yellow taken?” I ask, perking up, ignoring the stabbing pain in my chest.

“Nope!”

“Not happening,” Jack growls immediately, his tone flat and final.

Riley ignores him completely, already plotting. “Ooh! What if we do like a sunny sunflower yellow with little white daisies along the trim? Or…wait!. Ombre! You could totally ombre it from goldenrod to lemon. It’ll be like walking into sunshine!”

“Absolutely not,” Jack says, looking personally offended by the idea of cheerful door gradients. “I’m not living in a damn lemonade stand.”

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