Chapter 9: Morning After

"Since before I knew your name," I repeated.

"Yes."

"That's not possible. We met last Friday."

"We didn't meet."

He lay on his back with one arm under his head.

I lay against his side, and the lamp was still on.

"Five years ago," Talon said, "I stood in a parking lot outside the county courthouse for twenty minutes."

He looked at the ceiling.

"You came down the steps in a green dress, with a man in a gray suit."

I stopped breathing.

"You were laughing at something he said."

"You were at my wedding?"

"I was in the lot. I never came inside."

"Why?"

His jaw moved.

"That's Dane's to tell," he said. "I swear to you it will be told."

"But?"

"But I'm not handing you half of it at one in the morning to carry alone."

I should have pushed.

I think I would have, in another week, or another life.

But his hand was moving slowly up and down my spine.

For the first time in five years, my body was not braced for anything.

"I'm going to ask you again," I said.

"I know."

"You'd better have an answer."

"I'll have all of them." He turned his head and kissed my hair. "Sleep."

I did.

I slept hard, and I did not dream.

The next morning I walked into June's kitchen in Talon's gray T-shirt and a pair of June's leggings.

Seven people stopped talking.

Wick, at the stove with a spatula, said, "Morning, ma'am," and went red to the roots of his hair.

The sergeant at arms looked at the ceiling.

June, at the table with a cup of coffee, set it down and put her chin in her hand.

"Good morning, sunshine," she said. "Sleep well?"

"Very."

"Did you."

"June."

"I'm not saying anything. I'm drinking my coffee." She picked it up again. "I'm just drinking it very loudly."

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