Outcasts (Badlands 3)

k at. Course there wasn’t. He had always been the most interestin person in my life.

Well, outside of Cali, who was a whole other special story, and the reason I’d met him in the first place.

If that cannibal hadn’t carried her crazy self into the barn that day, I wouldn’t be alive. I was sure his rotting corpse was thinkin twice about that decision.

I wondered how she’d dealt with all that happened to her. She’d been used since she was just a little girl, and that made me sick to my stomach. Sure, she grew up to be a lil different, but she did grow—and change—and she was the strongest woman I knew. But she’d also fully embraced the crazy inside her. She wasn’t as unsure of it as I was mine.

“Brat,” Grimm said, suddenly in front of me and pullin me outta my head. I had to tilt my chin to look at him.

“Don’t do that, either.” He said it simply enough, but there was an edge to it.

“You can’t tell me not to think.”

“I didn’t tell you not to think. I told you not to keep it in, and that you can talk to me.”

I was gonna point out that he most certainly hadn’t said any of that, but I wasn’t going to get lengthy dialogue from Grimm. I’d never needed it before. I just got him. Without really trying, it was like some natural phenomenon between us, just as the sun knew when to trade places with the moon.

Still, what the heck happened during our separation? Why did he now want me to confide in him? He was back to staring me down at this point, and I was close to having a emotional outburst from it, so I did the next best thing and hugged him.

I knew he wasn’t any kind of hugger, but I didn’t care. I smashed my face against his firm chest, purposely breathed him in, and tightly embraced him. I waited for him to shove me away, but he just stood there for a full minute. Then, he hugged me back.

I probably could have died right then from the sheer impact that had on my chest. His arms around me was the first thing that had felt right in a very long time.

He made me feel somethin other than numb.

“Thank you,” I said, reluctantly pulling away. I dropped my arms but he kept his firmly on my back.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“You came for me.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat and stepped away, turning back to his bag. I got the feelin I’d said the wrong thing. I didn’t care. My mouth had gotten me this far; what was a bit of truth gonna do now?

Plus, we could both use some dosage of feelings in our lives.

“I know I was too late, and you might be wondering why I’m not treating you like a piece of glass, but that’s not me, and I’m not going to do that.”

“It’s also not like you to be this open,” I couldn’t help but point out.

“Not being open was a mistake we’re going to rectify. You only talk to me,” he was quick to clarify.

“That sounds rather possessive of you.”

“Should I warn you that I’m going to be selfish and protective over the only thing that’s ever been exclusively mine?”

Yeah, I was probably still dreamin. I opened my mouth, or it was already hangin open in what was either shock or a confused state of cautionary joy—I wasn’t sure. “Did you just call me a thing?” was my brilliant reply to what were potentially the best words I’d ever heard in my meager life.

He reached out and gently took hold of my hand, leading me to the bed. Without a word, he directed me to sit. I sank down on what felt like a plush piece of Styrofoam beneath the floral blanket, and focused on his chin.

He was onto me, and used his finger to aim my head up so we had eye connection before he said anything else. “You’re my thing—pain in the ass, bratty hellion. Call me a possessive dick if it makes you feel better. Still my thing.”

He went returned to his bag, giving me his back to scowl at. What was I supposed to say to any of that? Why the hell did he have to come out all noble now?

“First of all, Grimm, I’m a woman, not a thing. Second of all, if I’m anything of yours—”

“You’re my woman, then. Is that better? And I’m your man. I had some advice given to me, and was reminded that this was inevitable. You and me both know it, so let’s not do that bullshit.”

“Label it however you need to. I’ll leave the room if you want so you can do the girl thing and cry, maybe throw a tantrum and break whatever you can pick up, but it’s not going to change anything.”