Page 62 of Faded Rhythm

He crouches, smiling, scooping them both into a loose bear hug. I can barely stand the sight of it. It’s almost too sweet. Bittersweet.

Ebony raises an eyebrow at me over their heads.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, my voice low.

She nods and we head off toward her bedroom, where I close the door behind us.

“Okay,” she says, arms crossed. “What the fuck is going on?”

I sit on the edge of her bed, my body already tired and the day hasn’t even started yet.

“Brett’s been threatening me,” I say, underplaying the hell out of the whole situation.

Her face balls up. “Threatening…what?”

“Harm,” I say. “Serious harm.” She sits beside me, then leans in close. “Sable…does he know?”

“No,” I say a little too fast. “It’s impossible.”

Her facial expression is pure doubt. “You need to consider the possibility.”

I can’t. Not right now.

Ebony switches gears. “And who the hell is that in my living room?”

I can’t help the small smile. “My protector.”

She sighs. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” My smile fades when I see how deeply the worry is etched on her face. “He’s helping me,” I say. “I trust him.”

“Clearly. You left my nieces with him. He’s not a stranger, is he? When did you even meet him? And are y’allfucking?” she rapid-fire interrogates me, whispering that last word.

“Ebony, please. Just…leave it alone.”

“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “So you’re taking the girls?”

“Yeah. I need to have them with me.”

She exhales slowly. “Are y’all safe? Because if you need me, you know I got you. Don’t shut me out.”

I meet her eyes. “I can’t tell you everything right now. But I will. I promise.”

When we return to the living room, we find Julian on the couch with Henry on his lap and the girls flanking him on either side, talking his ear off. I bite back a smile. I know my sister’s watching me like a hawk.

When her eyes move over to the scene on the couch, I can tell she’s assessing him.

“Girls, go get your bags,” I tell them over the tenor of the little voices. They pout, but they do what I ask, leaving the three adults alone—and Henry, of course.

Ebony’s eyes follow the girls, then bounce back to Julian.

“Take care of my girls,” she warns.

He nods once. “I will. Don’t even worry about that.”

Just like me, I think she believes him. How could she not? The gravitas with which he said it can’t be denied. For whatever reason, on this particular day of my peculiar life, the man my husband hired to kill me decided he doesn’t play about me…or my babies.

I can’t explain, but it is what it is. And it feels good.

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