Chapter 21: Property of Nobody

Rafe brought Birdie's casserole up the ridge at dusk and set it on the kitchen counter.

He said he was sorry about the patch.

He said it twice, with his cap turning in his hands, and Boone thanked him in a voice with no give in it.

Rafe left before the porch light came on.

Boone watched his taillight go down the hill.

"I don't know what to do with him," he said.

"Don't do anything tonight."

"Lena, he lied to me."

"Tonight," I said, "you took off the thing you built your life on, in front of forty men, for me."

I stepped between him and the window.

"I'm not done thanking you."

He looked down at me, and the anger drained out of his face and left something raw.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know."

I pulled his shirt out of his jeans.

I put my palms flat on his stomach, hot skin over hard muscle, and felt it jump.

"I'm in charge tonight," I said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sit."

He sat down in the kitchen chair, the old oak one with the scratch in the arm, and I stood over him and took off my jacket.

The cut was gone from his shoulders.

His bare arms rested on the chair, the tattoos dark in the yellow light, and he waited for me.

I unbuttoned my shirt slowly.

He watched every button.

When it fell open, he made a sound deep in his chest, and his hands tightened on the wood.

"Don't touch yet."

"I'm not touching."

"You're about to."

"I'm about to," he agreed hoarsely.

I stripped off my bra and my jeans and stood in front of him bare, with my hair coming out of its braid.

His eyes went down me and stayed on my stomach, then rose to my face.

"You're not the same," he said. "And you're exactly the same."