Page 33 of Jay Bird

Willow wiped quickly beneath one eye. “Thank you.”

“I wasn’t me.”

“You let them bring it here.”

“I couldn’t exactly tackle them at the door.”

Given his size, Willow suspected he absolutely could have.

Right at that moment, Lily lifted her head. “Bed?”

“Yes, bug. You can go to bed.”

Lily examined the room sleepily. “Jay bed?”

Jay Bird pointed toward Willow. “That is yours and Mommy’s bed.”

Lily considered that for a moment, then slowly pointed at him.

“Jay bed?”

“My bed’s way over there, peanut.”

She frowned, as if the arrangement was questionable.

Willow laughed. “I think you’ve acquired a stalker.”

Jay Bird looked at Lily, his expression softened, and he winked at her.

Then he motioned toward the hallway. “The bathroom is right there. Fresh towels are in the cabinet. Somebody stocked it with shampoo, soap, kid stuff, and whatever else you might need.”

Willow shook her head. “You people are unbelievable.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

That sounded suspiciously like he expected her to be around long enough to actually get used to it, and the idea left Willow unsure what to do with it or how to even begin responding.

“I’ll let you get settled. If you need anything, just holler.”

“Okay. Thank you again.”

He nodded, and then his expression changed slightly. Still serious, but not intimidating. “Just remember that you are safe here. The alarm stays on whenever we’re home. You can check the cameras anytime you want. Nobody gets through the gate without being cleared, and nobody comes into this house unless you know about it.” He then nodded toward the bedroom door. “And you can lock that.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together. “What?”

“The door. There’s a lock. Use it.”

Willow stared at him. He must have seen something change in her expression because his voice softened.

“You don’t ever have to leave it unlocked for me. Or anyone else.”

For several seconds, Willow couldn’t speak. Three long years of doors that had never truly belonged to her, of bedrooms she couldn’t secure, of locks that existed only to keep her inside rather than protect her from the world outside. Chen had come and gone whenever he pleased, day or night, as if her time, her space, even her body had never been her own. It hadn’t mattered if Lily was asleep, if Willow was changing, or if she had only needed five quiet minutes to breathe. There had never been privacy. She had never had a door she could close and trust to stay closed, that no one would come through without permission.

Willow looked toward the brass lock, something so ordinary, something she’d once taken completely for granted, and now it nearly brought her to tears.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Jay Bird held her gaze. “This is your home too while you’re here. Treat it that way. Eat what you want. You can cook, watch TV. Hell, move stuff around if it annoys you.”