Page 32 of Touch Her and Die
I watched her do an odd little twirl and then she started down the steps with a knife in her hand. Perfect greeting in my book.
Yes. I think he was right.
He parked, and she threw the knife. Parks dodged it and started to laugh.
“Cousin, I see your speed needs work. Should we add in a few lessons?”
She jumped up and down and clapped before letting Parks pick her up into a bear hug.
I got out of the car.
“You’re lucky Parks likes you,” I said.
She went deadpan and glared at me.
“You’re lucky Parks like you,” she said back.
We stared at each other for what might have been minutes or hours.
“You two are going to be best friends, I can just tell.”
And that’s when we both started to smile.
“I think you’re right, cousin,” she said.
He put her down, and she came up to me.
“Wanna meet Gertie?”
If ever there was a time where I wanted to ask questions, now wasn’t one of them. At that moment, something flounced its adorable little feathered ass around the corner like she’d actually heard her name being called and somehow it brought her into being.
“Here she comes even if you don’t.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Gertie is a chicken?”
Emilee bent down and let the little feathered idiot hop right into her arms and I laughed.
The thing freaking hopped.
“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Why does she have pigtails? Is that normal?” I asked. “I mean. If she’s part of girls’ night and we can braid feathers, count me in.”
Emilee’s laughter was loud and something about it reminded me of something that I’d lost long ago. Or rather someone. It had been so long, I’d now lived longer without my sister than I had with her. I’d never forgive the people that took her life. Never.
Parks wrapped his strong warm arms around me.
“Tell her Emilee, why does she wear the pigtails?”
I could almost hear the amusement in his words.
“Well. Gertie is what they call a Polish chicken. She had this big, beautiful head of feathers. Problem? She sure runs into everything. She ran into a tire at full speed and knocked herself out. So, a few modifications later, and here she is. Stylish and alive.”
The scent of Parks near me did everything from calm my heartbeat to loosen every muscle in my body. All but calm my mind. I wanted this to always be mine.
Even whatever the hell this was would be okay. For now. I would take a Gertie and the middle of nowhere that smelled like poop, and this cousin who seemed a little bit this side of not right, as long as he was mine.
“Cute. Now if Parks could tell me how you and this chicken are going to kill his fiancée? Well, that would be helpful.”
