No Saint (Wild Men 6)

“Dad!” I gape at him, horrified. Not the kind of discussion I’d like to have with my dad, thank you very much.

“Just saying. You’re a kind person, Luna. Sensitive. You have a big heart. You forgive and forget, and take care of people—and dogs.” He lifts a hand to stop me when I open my mouth to retort. “Hear me out. You’ve changed, sure. You’ve become stronger. More confident. But your heart is the same, and that is a good thing. You’re a kind person, like I said. Don’t let anyone take that from you. Be careful, though, of those who will take advantage. Learn to tell apart those who deserve your love from those who only want to hurt you.”

“Ross wouldn’t hurt me.”

“You seem so sure.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

The conversation stalls. Buddy barks quietly, as if asking what’s going on.

“Good boy,” I whisper. “You’ll be fine.”

Dad’s sigh is a bit exasperated. “Just bring him in, will you? I’ll have to bathe him and we’ll take him to a vet for a check-up before we sign any adoption papers.”

It startles a laugh out of me. Turning, I go and wrap my arms around him. “Thank you, Dad.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if we could adopt Ross, too, if I can bring him over for a first meeting, but I stop myself. I should pace m

yself, take the time to talk to Josh first.

Don’t rush this, Luna, I tell myself. You don’t know if Ross wants to be “adopted”. He’s not a stray, he’s a man, and he may not want anything more from you down the line.

Drawing away, subdued, I go fetch Buddy who follows me easily, as if understanding everything that’s being said, feeling the undercurrents of a fate that’s invisible to me.

If Buddy’s here for a reason, I hope it will soon become clear. Meanwhile, I need to check on Ross and make sure he’s okay.

***

My day brightens when I spot Ross standing at the bus stop as I enter town. I head his way, relieved beyond words to see him there, safe and sound. Alive. Shaking my head at myself and my paranoia, I still go and take his hand, needing to feel his warm skin and strong muscles.

He hauls me against his side, wraps an arm around my shoulders, mouth quirking in a sharp, crooked grin. “I was thinking about you.”

“Good things?” I whisper, aware of hostile gazes drilling into our backs from the few other people waiting for the bus.

“Always.”

I hide a smile. I like being held against him, feeling his heart beat, smelling his dark scent.

“I’ve made up my mind,” he says. “About the letters I told you about. About my lost brother. I have to do something. I can’t ignore this.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ve submitted a request to visit Dad in prison. Ask him for the names of the woman and her son. He has the clues. He has to help me find this guy.”

“Are you sure about this?”

He shrugs in reply.

“Want me to go with you?”

“You would?” He sounds surprised.

“Of course.”

He ducks his head a little, looking pleased. “Thank you. I... Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to see him, though. He could clam up.”