Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

“We’ll be fine.”

Ben came into the room then. I beamed at him and waved. He smiled tiredly and sat in a chair by the wall.

“I can stay on the line to help out if you think—”

“Matt—we’re fine. If we need you we’ll call.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Thank you, Matt.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

We hung up, and I turned my attention to Ben.

He’d just come from Cañon City where he’d checked on Cormac, who now and for the next four years resided at the Colorado Territorial Correctional Facility. The very thought of it was gut-wrenching. But it could have been so much worse. That was what we’d all ended up telling each other. It could have been worse. This way, he’d be out in no time. We’d see him again soon.

I’d just have to make sure I kept out of trouble until then.

Ben looked exhausted. His hair had that sweaty, spiky look that meant he’d been messing it up for hours. A nervous habit. Then I noticed he carried a thick stack of paper, bound together by a rubber band, under his arm. It was the manuscript for a book. My book.

I’d finished it. I’d given it to him to read. Now, I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him. I didn’t want to know.

Yes, I did.

“Well?”

“Well, he’s doing okay. Says the food stinks, but what do you expect? Says he’s catching up on his reading.” In fact, Cormac—the bastard—had asked me for a reading list, since I was always saying nobody read anymore. “I’m wondering if maybe the time off will do him some good. Does that sound weird?”

I felt bad that I’d really been asking about the book. I gave him a sympathetic smile. “No, it doesn’t. You want him to find something else to do with himself. Give up the hunting.”

“This all does seem kind of like a sign in that direction, doesn’t it?”

“What would he do if he didn’t do the bounty-hunting thing?”

“I don’t know. He grew up on a ranch, like me. His dad was an outfitter, guided hunting expeditions and that sort of thing. Cormac used to work with him. Yeah, I guess I’m thinking that spending some time without a gun in his hand will give him the idea that he can do something else.”

I was torn between agreeing with him, and writing the whole idea off as silver lining bullshit. I wanted Cormac out. I wanted him free.

Even with Ben here, even with everything that had happened to build the bond that now existed between us, part of me still asked, What if. What if Cormac hadn’t run off, what if we’d managed to make a connection—

“I already miss him,” Ben said. “My phone rings and I keep hoping it’s his number on the caller ID. Even though I know better.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You know what he said, at the end of that last meeting in Walsenburg?” Ben raised a questioning brow, and I answered, “He asked me to take care of you. To keep you out of trouble.”

“Did he, now?” Ben said, smiling. “He said the same thing to me about you.”

I might have blushed. I did look away. It was almost like Cormac was giving us each a mission, to keep our minds off him.

I said, “Does he have so little faith in our ability to take care of ourselves?”

“Can you blame him?”

No, I couldn’t. “Is he going to be the same when he gets out?”

“I don’t know. He’s been through worse than this. But who knows? Am I the same? Are you the same? I wonder sometimes what you were like before the lycanthropy, if we would have had the time of day for each other. I guess—some of him’ll be the same, some’ll be different. We’ll just have to see what stays and what doesn’t.”

Like peeling back the bandages after surgery, hoping it worked. Praying it isn’t worse. It made me feel so out of control.