“We gotta head to the garage,” he said, tone flat. His all-business voice.
Red took a moment to sit up and let the room stop spinning, sighing quietly to herself. When he got like this, there was no shaking him out of it. Their conversation, however strange and disappointing, had come to a close for now.
She showered, brushed her teeth, and frowned at her too-pale, black-haired reflection in the mirror. The dye made her face look sallow and sickly; she had a true redhead’s skin tone, and the black leached all the meager color from her cheeks. There was nothing to be done for it, though, so she dressed and followed Rooster out of the room, waited patiently while he checked that the door was securely locked once, twice, three times.
After, he ushered her forward with the usual gesture of his arm; he always wanted her to walk a half-step ahead of him, so he could guard her from all sides at once. This morning, though, she was struck by the way that gesture never actually brought them in contact. He didn’t hook his arm around her, or slide her arm through his, no. At least a foot separated them.
He would have said he had to keep his gun hand free, and she knew that. She was being stupid. She…
Her breath hitched and she realized she hadn’t moved off down the sidewalk, was standing rooted in place, staring blankly at him, his arm held out in invitation.
He frowned at her. “You okay? You still tired?”
She jumped on the excuse. “Yeah, I…” She blinked back sudden hot tears, ashamed of herself. “But I’ll be fine. Just a little shaky still.”
His frown deepened. “You need to go lie back down?”
“No.” She scrounged up a smile. “We can go.” She forced her legs to move, falling into place a half-step ahead of him.
She wouldn’t think selfish thoughts anymore, she told herself sternly. Rooster would kill for her, would die for her – nearly had a time or two. That was love, plain and simple. The only kind she ought to ever ask for.
