Page 21 of Rent an Enforcer

Finally, I pull back far enough to catch sight of her smile. It’s the softest, most satisfied smile I’ve ever seen on a human face. Immediately, I know my purpose in life is to put that smile on her face as much as possible. Every day. For the rest of my life, if she’ll let me.

I kiss her forehead before rolling to the side and pulling her with me. She arranges herself against my chest like she was meant to be here, fitting against me like a puzzle piece. When the wind picks up outside, neither of us flinches.

It can’t touch us. In here, it’s warm and dark. The only sound is her breathing, slow and even against my chest. The sheets are a mess, and my heart rate still hasn’t fully come down, but I can’t remember ever feeling this peaceful. This... right.

I’ve done many things in my life. Most of them were hard. None of them were gentle. I’ve never once thought of myself as someone capable of being careful with another person. But with her, careful is the only setting I have.

A gust of wind hits the side of the house, and she tenses against me. This isn’t full panic, but I feel her breathing change and her fingers tighten where they were resting on my arm. “It’s picking up,” she whispers.

“The walls are solid. We’re safe.”

“I know.” Still, she presses closer. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I just remembered. Socks is all alone in this.”

Right. The rabbit, miles away from here, alone in a building that shakes when the wind picks up. At least, that’s what I imagine. It’s not exactly well-constructed.

“I’ll send someone over,” I offer. “I can have a guy there in twenty minutes. Marco. He’s trustworthy. He’ll bring Socks back here for you.”

She lifts her head, eyebrows practically up in her hairline. “You would do that?”

“I can do better than that.” I don’t know where this is coming from. I didn’t plan it, that much I’m sure of. None of the best things I’ve done lately have been planned. “I’ll have him pack a bag while he’s there. Clothes, whatever you need. Your paints. You can stay here.”

“Stay here?”

“With me. Stay here with me.”

She’ll push back. I know she will. There’s an entire list of reasons why this is too fast, too much. Evidently, I am no longer capable of being sensible, but I’m sure she still is.

“Okay,” she decides.

I sit up, searching her face for any hint of uncertainty. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I mean, you threw a turtle out the window for me.”

“A ceramic turtle.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s basically a proposal.” Before I can react, she starts counting things off on her fingers. “Tell Marco to grab the hay, too. And the pellet bag—it’s under the sink. His cushion. He won’t sleep without his cushion.”

Once she’s finished making her list, I pick up my phone and make the call. The wind screams outside, but the walls hold, as I knew they would. She lies back down, still listing things Socks will need. She’s asleep by the time I finish the call, smiling softly, nestled securely like she’s finally allowing herself to relax. Thanks to me.

If I have it my way, she’ll spend the rest of her life feeling safe.

I pull the blanket up over her shoulder, keeping watch as the wind howls on the other side of the window.

9

STELLA

The easel has to go by the window.

I’m very particular about this. When you’re painting, light matters more than almost anything. The window in Tristan’s spare room faces east, which means morning light. That means I’m putting the easel here and no one’s arguing with me.

Not that Tristan argued. Besides, up until this morning, this room contained nothing but a single folding chair and what I’m pretty sure was a box of ammunition. I would consider painting supplies a step up from that.

Marco brought everything over last night. My canvases and paints, brushes, my palette. My clothes, too, which fit into two duffel bags with room to spare. Socks’s cushion, his pellet bag, his hay and water bottle, the crate. Then there was Socks himself, who arrived in Marco’s arms with the expression of a hostage who has accepted his fate with dignity.