Page 110 of Firefly
I suddenly feel weirdly nervous. Which is stupid considering I’ve literally killed people without blinking. But this? This matters.
“I know it’s not fancy,” I mutter awkwardly. “Bianca helped because apparently I’m emotionally constipated.”
She laughs softly through tears already gathering in her eyes, and fuck… that expression alone makes every second worth it.
She walks slowly into the middle of the setup like she’s scared touching it might make the whole thing disappear.
“This place…” she whispers.
“I wanna buy it someday,” I say as her eyes lift to mine.
“What?”
I shove my hands into my pockets. “Build a house out here eventually.” The words feel too big suddenly. Too real. But I force them out anyway. “Grow old here.” I swallow hard. “Maybe have babies running around one day.”
Silence crashes between us. Heavy and terrifying. Because nobody has ever let us dream before. Not really.
Her eyes completely fill now. “You think about that?” she asks, and I nod.
“All the time.” The honesty in my voice seems to crack something open inside her.
She walks towards me slowly before pressing herself against my chest. I hold her immediately. Breathing her in like oxygen.
“They stole so much from us,” she whispers as rage curls low beneath my ribs. Three years. Three fucking years ripped away from us because her father decided I wasn’t good enough to love his daughter.
“I’m not letting you go again,” I growl into her hair. “You hear me?” And she nods. “You’re it for me, Firefly,” I say, then cup her face gently—forcing her to look at me. “Same as when we were fifteen.” Her lips tremble. “Before Prison. Before all this shit…” My forehead presses against hers. “It’s always been you.”
A tear slides down her cheek. “We need to figure out my father,” she whispers.
The softness vanishes from me instantly because she’s right. Judge Fitzgerald is the rot poisoning everything we touch.
“He needs to die,” I deadpan, and she doesn’t even flinch.
“I know.”
That should probably disturb me more than it does, but instead, I hold her tighter. Then she tells me about Brimstone House. The threat. The punishment. The women broken inside those walls. By the end of it… I’m seeing red.
“I saw the video,” I admit quietly. “Of your fight.”
She groans softly. “Hayden..”
“You need to stop fighting people,” I tell her, and her eyes widen.
“Excuse me?”
“You almost got sent to Brimstone House because some girl mouthed off.”
“Wait, how the fuck do you know about that?” she asks, and I smirk.
“Doesn’t matter. Stop deflecting.”
“I’m not, but Jesus, what more do you know?”
“None of your business. Stop beating little girls up for running their mouths.”
“You’re insufferable, Hayden. She said she slept with you.”
“She was lying,” I say, and she throws her hands in the air.
