“They’d probably do the same thing they’d do to us if they knew.” I reached out, cupping the hand that held the obsidian. I laid my finger over hers, stopping her movements. “They’d lock you up…or worse. But I’m not going to let that happen.”
“But how can you live like this? Like, just waiting for them to find out there’s more to you guys?”
My fingers curled around hers. “It’s all I’ve known—it’s all any of us have known.”
She blinked rapidly and whispered, “That’s really kind of sad.”
“It’s our life.” I paused, hating the sudden look of sadness in her gaze. “But don’t worry about them. Nothing will happen to you.”
Kat leaned in, stopping when our faces were only inches apart. “You’re always protecting others, aren’t you?”
I gently squeezed her hand and then leaned back, folding my arm under my head. “This hasn’t been a very birthday-friendly conversation.”
“It’s okay. You want more milk or anything?”
“No, but I would like to know something.”
She stretched out her legs and they ended up beside mine. “What?”
“How often do you run through the house singing?”
Kat moved to kick me, but I caught her toes, stopping her. “You can leave now,” she said.
I grinned, eyeing the reindeer. “I seriously love these socks.”
“Give me back my foot,” she ordered.
“It’s not so much the fact that they’ve got reindeer on them or that they go all the way up to your knees. But it’s the fact they’re like mittens on your feet.”
She wiggled her toes. “I like them like that. And don’t you dare knock them. I will kick you off this couch.”
I raised a brow as I turned her foot over, inspecting them. “Sock mittens, huh? Never seen anything like it. Dee would love them.”
She pulled at her foot, and I let go this time. “Whatever. I’m sure there’re cornier things than my socks. Don’t judge me. It’s the only thing I like about the holidays.”
“The only thing? I figured you’re the type of person who wants the Christmas tree to go up on Thanksgiving.”
“You celebrate Christmas?”
I shot her a bland look. “Yes. It’s the human thing to do. Dee loves Christmas. Actually, I think she just loves the idea of presents.”
She laughed. “I used to love the holidays. And yeah, I was real big on the Christmas tree when Dad was alive. We’d put it up while watching the parade on Thanksgiving.”
“But?”
“But Mom is never home on the holidays now. And I know she won’t be this year; since she’s new at the hospital, she’ll get the shaft.” Kat shrugged, but I could tell it bothered her. A lot. “I’m always alone on the holidays, like some sort of old cat woman.”
I could also tell that this conversation made her uncomfortable, made her sad. I changed the subject and picked one that would bring back some of the fire to her eyes. “So, this Bob guy…”
“His name is Blake, and don’t start, Daemon.”
“Fine.” I grinned, because there it was—the darkening in her eyes. “He’s not an issue anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged and changed the subject again. “I was kind of surprised when I was in your bedroom while you were sick.”
Her brows lifted. “I’m not sure I want to know about what.”
“You had a poster of Bob Dylan on the wall. I expected the Jonas Brothers or something.”
“Are you serious? No. Not a fan of pop music. I’m a huge fan of Dave Matthews and older stuff, like Dylan.”
That did surprise me, and that little tidbit kicked off a conversation about music and then movies. Of course, we ended up arguing, because seriously, we couldn’t have a conversation without one, but she thought the second Godfather movie was better than the first, and that was a simply wretched thing to say.
Hours passed, and it felt like only minutes. We ended up stretched out on opposite sides of the couch, side by side, both of us growing sleepy at the same time. We argued. We laughed. We were normal. It—all of this—was nice. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this relaxed.
I had no idea how much time had passed between the last time I blinked my eyes and reopened them. I knew it was really late, and there was a lull in the conversation, and I was drifting into that peaceful place between waking and sleeping. At some point, I opened my eyes. Not by much, just a thin slit really, and I found her watching me, her expression soft and…and downright perfect.
Kat moved suddenly, grabbing the large quilt off the back of the couch. She draped it over my legs. I waited for her to climb over me and leave, but she must’ve grabbed a second quilt and covered herself with it.
Another small victory.
“Thank you,” I murmured, closing my eyes again.
There was a pause. “I thought you were asleep.”
“Almost, but you’re staring at me.”
“I am not.”
I pried one eye open. “You always blush when you lie.”
“I do not.”
“If you keep lying, I think I will have to leave,” I threatened. “I don’t feel like my virtue is safe.”