Page 71 of Sunny Undone

“Someone has taken my samples.”

She’s hurrying along the racking in the fridges along the wall, and something visceral tugs at me to see her in so much distress. The next time she passes me, I reach for her, tug her to me, and wrap my arms around her so tightly, it burns through my biceps.

“Stand here with me,” I say as she tries to break free.

“I need to look for them.” The distress is heavy in her tone.

“No. You need to stand here and take a breath with me. We’ll look for them in sixty seconds when you’ve taken a breath.”

She pushes at me for another five seconds, but then, I feel the moment she starts to calm. Her breathing slows, matching mine. I don’t relax my hold on her for a whole minute.

“Nothing we can’t face together,” I say, before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

She takes a final breath, then looks up at me. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“It has. But we’re not gonna give whoever is fucking with you the satisfaction of crumbling like they want you to. We make a to-do list, and we get on with it. Frantic minds don’t solve problems, cool ones do. Yeah?”

Della nods and presses a kiss to my chest before I let her go. “Thank you for the reminder. I’m thinking this is all going to get worse before it gets better.”

I look over to where Evan is pretending to busy himself, but he’s watching our reflection in the window.

“Maybe. Let’s deal with the samples you brought, look for the ones that are missing, and then, get you home to bed. Because one thing I know for sure, the world always feels brighter after a good night’s sleep.”

22

DELLA

The key sticks in the lock at my house, something that has routinely bothered me, but with Sunny standing behind me, it feels almost embarrassing. Until I remember the lock to his front door was fiddly, too.

When it gives, the thought that I should replace it slides into the endless list of Things That Need Doing. I’d put it somewhere between fixing the dripping tap in the second bathroom and emailing the landlord to ask them to come fix the fume hood that whistles when the extraction fan is going at full tilt.

I push the door open and flick the light on, just as Sunny steps up behind me and places his hand on my lower back. The gesture makes me smile.

It’s romantic.

Boyfriend-worthy.

Thankfully, my little townhouse is exactly how I left it. A pair of muddy field boots waits beside the door. Three reusable shopping bags hang neatly from their hooks, unsurprisingly mounted in order of size.

“Wow, you have more books than furniture,” Sunny says as he steps inside. He closes the door with his foot before looking around some more, as if he’s cataloguing everything I own.

His eyes move over the vintage pressed wildflowers hung on the dark green wall. I didn’t pick them; I would have left them where they were in nature. But I found them already framed in an estate sale.

There is a stack of journals balanced on the table next to the sofa. And I could have sworn I’d finished building the Lego orchid on the coffee table, but I clearly didn’t.

“I like it,” he says, finally. He faces me and brushes a knuckle down my cheek. In the tight entryway, it feels way too intimate. “It’s all uniquely you.”

My heart performs a little stumble at his words. “I need to put some laundry in the washer.”

Sunny blinks. “That’s your first thought?”

I tug my shirt to my nose. “I smell like the marsh.”

He huffs at that. “It won’t matter if I take you out of them. I thought your first thought may be”—his eyebrows lift—“kissing the incredibly handsome biker currently standing in your hallway.”

“I’m very aware you’re standing in my hallway. I would have thought that was obvious.”

Sunny chuckles and cups my cheek. “So literal. But I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm.”