Crazy Cat (Capital City MMA Book 2) by Susan Fanetti

Author:Susan Fanetti [Fanetti, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-05T18:30:00+00:00

*****

She could have texted him, or called, but it didn’t seem right. Besides, they’d already made a habit of dropping in on each other.

She went to St. Ben’s first, but his truck wasn’t there, so she went to his house, where it was parked on the driveway. She pulled her Aprilia up beside it and parked.

It really was a cute house, and he took good care of it. Instead of grass for a front yard, he had done that environmentally friendly thing—it had a word, but she couldn’t remember it—with native plants in clusters of varying type, size, and height and a meandering path of pretty pebbles around them.

On the porch was a little ice-cream-parlor kind of seating arrangement, two red chairs and a round red table, with a potted cactus in the center—just a fat little spiky ball like you could buy at Safeway, but it was in a colorful Mexican-style pot.

The red front door opened before Mila stepped onto the porch, and Hex frowned down at her. He was bare-chested, and his jeans weren’t fully closed, like he’d been in the process of dressing, or undressing. He still looked completely worn out. Even more than yesterday.

Strangely, before he said a word he leaned out and looked up and down his quiet street, like he’d expected her to arrive with a SWAT team.

“Mila?” He said when he returned his attention to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just … I want to talk.” In that statement, she heard the echo of a similar one, made not even twenty-four hours earlier. She smiled. “It’s not bad this time. I don’t think.”

He was quiet, watching her steadily. Looking back at his brown eyes, Mila thought of the word ‘soulful’ and how often she’d read or heard eyes described that way in books and movies. It had seemed like an empty term, a cliché that didn’t really describe anything. Now, though, she thought she understood.

When it seemed like he might simply stand there and do nothing, she said, “Hex. I forgive you.”

That woke him up. He blinked, and something happened beneath the surface of his face, some kind of shift that deepened the soulful look about him. He took a breath and opened the door, stepping back to make way for her. She stepped in.

The living room was dark and cool; he had his AC on, and the drapes closed. She’d always liked a house this way on a summer afternoon. Like a cozy cave.

“I don’t deserve it,” he said as he closed the door.

She wasn’t sure whether he did or not. But she remembered something a caseworker had told her once. “It’s not about deserving. It’s about needing. I need to forgive you, and maybe you need to be forgiven.”

His smile was fragile. “I do. Thank you.”

“You look exhausted.”

“There’s a lot going on. I just came home for a few hours to get a shower and a nap.”

Not stopping to think about why she was doing it or what it would mean, Mila stepped close and set her hand on Hex’s bare chest.

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