Page 58 of Razor

She stares at me in horror, and I sigh. “Yeah, that place was a fucking freak show. Thankfully, we closed it down so there will be no repeat performances.”

She shivers, but a proud gleam sparkles in her eyes as she nods. “Good.”

I kick off my boots. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. It’s well?—”

“What, Razor?”

A soft smile curls on her sweet lips, and I roll my eyes. “Well nothing. I didn’t want to be alone.”

She nods, but the smile remains, and she sits beside me on the edge of the bed; her fingers laced with mine, and lays her head on my shoulder. “You must be exhausted.”

“I am.”

It was a hard ride back, especially as my brother didn’t return with me and I huff, “Blade stayed behind. He was assigned the girl to protect. I had word Ryder wants him to take her to one of the safe cabins in the mountains to heal while they figure out what shit she’s in.”

“I see.”

Sunday squeezes my hand. “It’s probably for the best. I hope she’s okay.”

“She will be.”

My eyes are stinging from lack of sleep, and the adrenaline wore off hours ago, and a deep yawn alerts Sunday to my position right now. She says almost fiercely, “Get into bed. I’ll fetch you a coffee and then you must sleep.”

“I’m not gonna argue with you.”

She points to her small bathroom.

“Take a shower, wash the dirt off while I fetch the coffee.”

I glance down, noting the blood staining my hands, and remember the guy whose head exploded on it tonight.

Sunday obviously saw it too, but she doesn’t reference it, which is probably for the best.

As she heads off, I make use of her shower, loving the feminine touches dotted around, the opposite to mine.

I kind of love sleeping over at Sunday’s. It reminds me of her; her scent lingers in the air, and it’s less oppressive than my condo. I love everything about it because it’s her place. It reeks of her and settles my heart.

As I crawl into her bed, the pillow sinks under my head, and as soon as my eyes close, I sink into oblivion.

* * *

When I wakethe next morning, the sun is already high in the sky. My limbs are stiff, my mouth parched, and yet there is a satisfied smile on my face. Sunday is naked and her body pressed against mine. Her leg draped over me; her hand pressed against my chest.

I take a moment to enjoy her even breathing, the soft sounds of satisfaction occasionally breaking the silence.

I could wake up beside Sunday for eternity; it would never get old, and sometimes I imagine a different sort of life for us. One that doesn’t involve the past, threats, and violence. Where we are happy, a normal couple with none of the ghosts of our past to haunt us.

Normal life will never be part of my world. Living at the Rubicon is as normal as it gets, and as Sunday stirs, my heart breaks a little because one day this may be a sweet yet bitter memory to remind me of a time when I had it all.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven, if your clock is right.”

“Wow, we overslept.”

She makes to sit up, but I pull her down, not wanting to break the spell she has me under.

“What’s the hurry?”