Page 49 of Heroes & Hitmen
“My sister Andie is more like me,” I continue, warmth bleeding into my voice. “Wild heart. Big mouth. Zero filter. She does whatever the hell she wants, consequences be damned. My parents were constantly putting out fires where the two of us were concerned,but to their credit, they never tried to smother it. Just found outlets. Taught us how to shoot, and all three of us would spend hours at the range.”
“So you’re close,” she surmises.
“Very.”
She nods like she respects that.
“You’ll love them,” I add, more certain than I probably have any right to be. “And they’ll love you, too. They’re a real welcoming bunch. Total chaos, but the kind you actually want to come home to.”
Her gaze drops for a second, fingers toying with the edge of the blanket in her lap. Not like she’s bored, more like she’s trying to hide the way my words landed. The idea of a close-knit family must feel foreign to her. Or maybe it’s something she never dared to let herself want in the first place.
After a beat, she lifts the lollipop to her lips in a subtle retreat, but her eyes don’t leave mine.
“What’s your deal?” she asks, head cocked like she’s trying to solve an equation.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” I laugh.
She rolls her lower lip between her teeth, still studying me. “You’re not deliberately trying to push my buttons or get in my pants. It’s… weird.”
“Just tired,” I say, giving a loose shrug. “Guess I’m off my game tonight.”
She squints. “So this is the real you? Or are you just trying to get on my good side?”
“It’s all me.” I flash her a crooked grin. “Are you charmed yet?”
She considers, drawing the candy into her mouth slowly and deliberately. “You’re not… entirely unbearable.”
I bark a laugh. “Wow. High praise, coming from you.”
“Don’t let it get to your head.”
“Too late.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck, warmth blooming beneath the cold front she always tries to wear. The tension between us shifts– still there, still crackling– but softer now. Less brittle. Like we’ve both stripped off our armor for the night.
Miley picks up her book again, tugging the blanket tighteraround herself as she flips it open. “Don’t even think about dipping into my chocolate,” she mutters without looking up.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I chuckle.
She tries not to smile, but I don’t miss the way her lips quirk. Honestly, it’s hard to miss anything about her mouth while she’s sucking on that lollipop.
For a while, we just sit there– her reading, me watching her out of the corner of my eye. I get up to grab another beer, then settle back in to drink it. Somewhere along the way, the silence between us stops feeling awkward. It’s not hostile or heavy anymore. Just quiet. Easy. Like we’ve stepped into some strange little bubble where reality can’t touch us.
“So, are we gonna talk about it?” I finally ask.
“About what?” she murmurs absently.
“Plan B. How we’re gonna handle your father and this whole ceremony he’s got planned.”
She sighs, lowering her book and glancing over at the clock. “Can we do it tomorrow? It’s late, and I’m drained.”
“Sure,” I say, tipping my head toward the hallway. “Should we head to bed, cuddle up? For warmth, obviously.”
She stares back at me, deadpan. “You’ve got the couch.”
“Again?” I groan. “That bed is huge. You’d barely notice I was there.”
She shoots me a look. “I’d notice.”
