Chapter 23: Yes

By the ninth night, Boone had asked me nine different questions.

The first was dinner at the Tin Cup, where Mags seated us by the kitchen door and winked at me over the menus.

The second was a walk down the gravel road at dusk.

The sixth was whether I wanted to watch him fail to fix the porch light.

I said no to the porch light and yes to the rest.

On the ninth night he stood in the kitchen doorway, in a clean shirt, with his hair still wet from the shower.

"Hallie."

"Yes?"

"I don't have a question."

"No?"

"I'm out." His mouth curved. "I think I used them all up. Seems like the last thing I've got is the real one."

"Then ask it."

He swallowed.

"Can I come to your room tonight?"

I put down the dish towel.

Over his shoulder, on the refrigerator, hung the letter from the state attorney's office under a pecan magnet.

Witness, it said. Not a target.

Next to it was Boone's signed repayment order, and neither of us had mentioned Gus in a week.

Nothing was left to wait for.

I crossed the kitchen, and I took his hand.

"Ask me upstairs," I said.

He followed me up the stairs without a word.

In the bedroom I closed the door and turned to face him.

The lamp was on, low.

I had never wanted anything so clearly in my life.

"Come here."

He crossed the floor in two steps and kissed me.

It was slow, and deep, and he tasted of coffee and the mint he'd bitten on the porch.

My hands found the buttons of his shirt, and I opened it down his chest.

The tape still lay over his ribs.

I put my palm flat on it, very gently, and he shivered.

"Your rib."

"It's fine."

"You're a liar."

"I'm a very motivated liar," he said, and I laughed into his mouth.

He pulled my dress over my head.

I stood in front of him in my bra and underwear, in the lamplight, and his eyes went over me slowly, from my face to my knees.

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