Page 229 of Things We Left Behind
“I’ll find whoever did this and make them pay,” I vowed.
“Not if I find them first,” she said.
She didn’t get it. Not yet. But she would understand soon. I would make sure of it. I reached out and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She looked vulnerable yet so fierce. A pixie ready to do battle.
I leaned down, intending to brush my mouth to hers, but she pulled back. “Why didn’t you go next door to change?” she asked.
“Because I’m not leaving you.”
Not now, not ever again.
She rolled those green eyes at me. “You’re so weird. And don’t think for one second just because we took a bath and you made me pancakes that we’re back on, bucko.”
“Bucko?” I repeated, trying hard not to smile. Sloane Walton was back, and she was ready to kick some ass.
“Oh, no, big guy. You better get that idea out of your thick head real fast. We’re as done as done can be. Last night meant nothing.”
“You’re wrong, Pix. It meant everything. And I’m going to prove it.”
She glared up at me. “Go away.”
“Do you all want us to eat these pancakes by ourselves while you fight, or can we talk like adults?” Nash asked, gesturing with a spatula.
“Let’s talk fast. I have to get to the library. See what can be salvaged and start the conversation with the insurance company,” Sloane said when we were all settled in at the dining room table with plates of pancakes.
The cat perched at the foot of the table, regally cleaning her ass.
“Now, Sloane, it’s an active crime scene. I can’t have you Nancy Drewing your way around. Especially not before we have the okay from the structural engineers,” Nash insisted.
Her jaw tightened.
“You said you know who did it,” I said, drawing her attention. “Let’s start there.”
“It was clearly either the guy who attacked me in theparking lot or the one who gave the orders to have Mary Louise roughed up,” she said, dumping the better part of a bottle of syrup on her stack of pancakes.
My knife and fork clattered onto the plate, startling the cat, who hit the floor like a bowling ball before stampeding out of the room.
“What did you say?”
“Uh-oh. He’s using his scary voice,” Lina noted.
“It’s none of your business,” Sloane said crisply.
“I’d like to speak with you outside, Morgan,” I said to Nash, ignoring her.
My friend shook his head. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to punch me in the face untilafterbreakfast.”
“Then talk. Now,” I ordered.
“I was leaving a date, and some guy in a ski mask opened my car door, pinned me to the seat, and told me to leave Mary Louise alone. Does anyone else want more coffee?” Sloane asked.
“What?” I roared. This whole time, I’d assumed I was the one who’d put her in danger. But in reality, it had come from a different direction, and I could have been there to stop it. I should have been there to stop it.
“He’s gonna hulk his way right out of those pants,” Lina warned.
“Please,” Sloane scoffed. “Do us all a favor and drop the overprotective act.”
“You were attacked?” I said, looking at her.
