Page 74 of Something Like Shelter

“It is,” I said, handing it to her so I could move the four empty cups already sitting on the nightstand.

“Thank you. It’s the only thing that makes my throat feel better.”

“Bad, huh?” I asked, toeing off my shoes then moving onto the other side of the bed beside her.

“The fever broke, so that’s good. But the sore throat and stuffiness are at their peak. I hope.”

“How’s Adelaide?”

“A lot less fussy with some medicine to keep the fever down and help with the aches. Though she absolutely hates the booger sucker.”

“Can’t blame her for that. Sounds uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, but she immediately breathes better. She’s had two baths and steams today. And nonstop rocking and singing. She’s being so spoiled she’s going to be miserable to go back to just me.”

“Nah. They’re just keeping her distracted from feeling miserable. She’s always going to want you.”

“You should be feeling pretty dejected right now too.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, pulling the covers up over her and tucking them.

“Tuna has fallen more in love with each new person he’s met today.”

“Oh, I have no delusions about my dog. He would lead a burglar to my valuables, help him carry it out, then leave in the van with him. He loves everyone. But that’s what I was looking for in a dog. I saw a goth-looking woman walking him when I drove up.”

“That’s Kit. She’s the one with a farm. And two giant Great Pyrenees dogs of her own.”

“She does not strike me as a farmer.”

“I know, right? She and Ariah used to be travel vloggers. Really popular ones. Then when they got tired of that, they decided to shift into homestead content.”

“Do either of them belong to the short, small, black-haired woman downstairs who saved me from a million questions by sending me up here with tea?”

“That’s my Aunt Janie. And, no. She only has a son. But don’t let her fool you, she’s not asking questions because she already knows everything about you from your shoe size to who you lost your virginity to.”

“You have a really interesting family.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“I’d like to.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting into,” she said.

Then she launched into it.

It turned out none of her family was actually related by blood, but rather extremely close bonds forged by the women and their husbands. People who ranged from normal businesswomen—like her mother—to hackers, outlaw bikers, and self-defense experts.

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’ve been doing martial arts all your life,” I said when she took a break to nurse her sore throat.

“It was non-negotiable growing up.”

“You still practice?”

“Not as often as I used to, but my cousins and I all take classes here and there. And spar.”

“I’m not ashamed to admit that I would like to see that. Or spar with you.”

Willa glanced over, a little smile tugging at her lips. “I wouldn’t go easy on you.”