“Greta didn’t date some chick like, right after she divorced my mom,” she returned and immediately commenced storming off.
Hix blew out a sigh.
Shaw called after his sister, “Uncool, Cor.”
“Whatever, Shaw,” she called back.
Shaw looked to his dad. “I’ll talk to her again.”
“Maybe we should let her get where she needs to go on her own, kid.”
“And maybe I’ll give her the shot to do that, say, she’s got this week, and then I’ll talk some sense into her,” Shaw retorted.
“Son, we’re all getting used to a lot of new things.”
“And Dad, life is gonna throw a lot uglier things her way and she needs to learn to deal with it without bein’ a pain in the butt,” Shaw replied. “I mean, it isn’t like it’s lost on her that that woman’s husband got dead helpin’ some guy out and she was there right after Greta got attacked in her own kitchen. She needs to clue in. Stuff happens. You deal. Then you move on. The end.”
“Gotta admit, it’s freakin’ me out how smart you are,” Hix murmured, and Shaw shot him a big grin.
“Yeah. I’m like Yoda except taller, younger and hotter.”
Hix started chuckling.
Mamie made an appearance on a sideways skid that didn’t go too well on the carpet so Hix tensed to jump if she went down.
She didn’t go down.
She declared, “I left my backpack in your room, Dad,” like this was the end of the world.
“Then I’ll go get it, baby,” he told her, sipping his coffee, putting it down then moving out to do that.
His kids got themselves sorted out, and Hix stood outside at the top of the stairs watching them get into Shaw’s car so he could take them to school.
Mamie waved at him through the back window.
Shaw gave him a wrist flick before he folded into the driver’s seat.
Corinne kept her head bent to fiddling with her backpack in her lap, and she did this meticulously.
Hix watched them back out and take off and then he went inside.
To give Greta more time to sleep, he got his own shower in, got dressed and only then did he wake Greta.
Sitting in the bend of her hips, he watched her turn to her back, stretch and open her eyes to look up at him.
How she could look cute with that big bandage on her nose, he didn’t know, but thank Christ she did or seeing it would remind him he’d very much like to murder somebody.
He had the light on in the hall but he switched the one on beside the bed, watching her blink against it even as he bent into her to block some of it out.
“I need to get you home and then get to work, baby,” he said.
“Right,” she mumbled, still looking sleepy but now adding unhappy.
“I’m gonna be there, Greta.”
She pushed up on her elbows, looking down at her body in the bed. “Mm-hmm.”
“Babe.”
Her head turned to him.
“He’s in a cell. I get you home. You’re there with me. I leave when you settle and I know you’re good. I do my thing. You do yours. I pick you up from work, take you to the hospital to get your dressing changed. And tonight is Monday Night Football. Shaw’s with me full-time now so we make that night a thing. Tonight, you’re gonna be our special guest.”
Her eyes grew more alert as the sleep left her and she replied, “I can’t horn in on your and Shaw’s thing.”
“If you don’t, he’ll probably go to your house and get you himself.”
“Hixon—”
“Babe, you agreed to complicated. You might as well give it all it’s worth.”
Her pretty lips quirked under that big white bandage. “I have noted your son is much like his father when it comes to kicking in when a damsel is in distress.”
“Don’t say shit that might mean they’ll have to reset your nose seein’ as I’m wantin’ to kiss you and do it hard,” he warned and exited the bed before he did something else. “Get up, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.”
“All right,” she said like she didn’t want to and tossed the covers aside.
Hix looked away because he hadn’t just carried her to bed the night before.
She’d woken up groggy in the middle of him trying to help her put on his tee before he’d put her in his bed.
And she looked way too good in it.
“I need my dress back, Hix,” she told him as he moved toward the door to get her a travel mug of coffee.
“Just wear Cor’s stuff again,” he told the door.
“You know, you’re depriving me of my Halloween costume,” she joked.
He stopped at the door and looked back at her.
Standing by his bed, her hair a beautiful mess from sleep, her eyes still lazy from the same, wearing his shirt, outside deciding to start a family, Hix knew in that instant she was the best decision he’d made in his life.
“I’ll give it back for trick or treat,” he returned. “Now you want coffee?”
“Am I breathing?”
“Yup.”
“Then yup.”
He grinned.
She gave that back.
Then Hix went to get his woman coffee.
“It’s a kitchen.”
“Unh-hunh.”
“It’s your kitchen.”
“Yep.”
“With your stuff. Where you make great pancakes. And look amazing wearing a robe.”
Greta was standing in his arms in her kitchen, now wearing his daughter’s clothes and a pair of Corinne’s flip-flops.
Greta’s purse was on the island. Her Cherokee in the drive. His Bronco behind it where he’d parked it after following her there.
As he’d asked, without bitching, Hal had gone to her place the day before and cleaned up the blood drips that had fallen on the kitchen island and the flagstone floors. How he managed it, Hix didn’t know. That porous stone would normally soak the blood and leave a stain.
But he’d done it.
Hix made a note to buy his deputy a bottle as Greta tipped her head back to look at him.
“What makes a man do something like that?” she asked.
He drew her deeper into his body and dipped his face closer to hers.
“I’m not that man so I don’t know. I also don’t care seein’ as there’s no excuse for it, no reason I’d believe that was even close to valid behind it. All I know is he did it and now he’ll pay for it.”
“He said I don’t matter,” she reminded him, because he’d heard her tell Hal that same thing while giving her statement at his dining room table the day before.
And yeah.
It was good she looked cute even with a broken nose or Hix would be fighting the urge to murder someone.
“If I don’t matter, why go through the trouble?” she asked.
“I wish I had answers but I’ve seen a lot of shit people have done that have no answers, sweetheart, so I’ve learned not to wreck my head and my peace of mind trying to figure it out. It’s their problem. He made it yours doin’ what he did. Don’t make the rest of it yours tryin’ to figure it out.”
“Good advice,” she muttered to his shoulder.
He gave her a careful shake and got her attention back.
“I need to know you’re good before I get to the department, Greta,” he told her quietly.
She looked from his eyes through the room then back to him.
“It’s my kitchen,” she replied.
He gave her a grin. “Yeah, it is.”
She suddenly looked hesitant.
“I can . . . uh, call you if I get, well . . . tweaked?”
“I’d be pissed if you didn’t.”
She relaxed against him. “Okay.”