Chapter 70

CHAPTER 70

A t eight the next morning, I was sitting in the kitchen with Maggs, enjoying the early morning quiet, especially after last night. I'd left Rose in bed, exhausted after all the terror and all the comfort and now all I wanted was a quiet space to think.

Maggs lifted her head, disturbed but not on alert, and Poppy came into the kitchen, looking haggard, which was understandable.

I was a bit twitchy myself. In the past, after an op, I'd blow off steam by getting blasted, drowning the immediate stress in alcohol. When you can't think, you can't think dark thoughts. It was always a temporary solution because those thoughts were still there, but it'd kept me going. I'd broken my vow never to kill again. I didn't feel bad about Norman, but the act takes a toll.

"I need to talk to you, Max," Poppy said, her voice trembling a little.

Yeah, it was going to take Poppy some time to recover from that nightmare.

I'd thought the worst was over. Herc had taken Serena's body, and the other bodies had been carted off by Melissa. Luke had driven away in his van and put a temporary plywood door in the front of Oddities and told Rose he'd be on it today. And Darius had thanked me for coming after Poppy, and Luke had thanked me for saving Darius, although really that was Maggs.

I got the feeling that Maggs was never going to be short on treats as long as we were in Rocky Start.

But Herc had killed Serena for a reason, and that nagged at me. I didn't want Herc killing people in Rocky Start. Hell, I didn't want anybody killing anybody in Rocky Start. People I cared about lived here.

People like Poppy, who was not back to being Poppy yet. All that confidence, all that certainty, all of that was gone in one night, and now I could see the little girl she'd once been, scared but trying to be brave.

"It's okay, Poppy," I told her now. "It's all over."

I knew she was still on edge, but that didn't mean I wanted to talk to her about it. If she needed somebody shot, I was her man. If she needed counseling or something . . .

Poppy folded her arms. "I know you think that since Serena is gone, we're safe and you don't have to stay," she said, trying to fix me with that stern look of hers and just looking woebegone. "But this place is still a mess and Junior is still out there, and God knows what else Ozzie's got hidden in here, and who knows what will happen if we turn up something that somebody else wants." Her voice was rising as she said, " We're still not safe ." She took a deep breath. "So you should stick around. I mean, Mom's going to be all alone when I go to college next fall?—"

That startled me. "I can't stay that long?—"

"Why not?" Poppy asked, a little panic in her voice. "You're comfortable here, the food is great, Maggs loves it here, and you like turning up Ozzie's surprises. And you really like my mom. And you're not on a deadline, you don't have to get to the end of the Trail by dinner. Please, Max. You're in a good place here. Stay."

"I've got to finish the Trail."

"You can do that later."

I shook my head. "It's late in the year. The weather will turn."

" Max , please, " she said, begging now, which I hated .

So I tried for compromise because truth be told, I did like it here. "I can stay another couple of days to help your mom get everything straightened out, but then I'm on the Trail again to finish."

"A month," Poppy said, an edge in her voice. "Three weeks. End of November. We do a great Thanksgiving here. Although you should stay for Christmas, we make an amazing Christmas dinner here. Only we call it a solstice dinner because Mrs. Baumgarten is Jewish and Darius and his dad do Kwanzaa, and?—"

"Poppy—"

"—and winter isn't a great time to hike the Trail. Maybe you could stay until spring?"

I blinked because there were tears welling up in her eyes. I reminded myself again that she was only eighteen. That murder and mayhem and being kidnapped and threatened with death and bleeding onto a floor and watching somebody die before her eyes were not something she was used to. It suddenly occurred to me it wasn't something anyone should be used to.

"It's okay, Poppy," I said. "Everything will be all right." She gave a laugh that was half a sob, and I reached across the table and awkwardly took her hand, giving it a squeeze, which was probably wildly inadequate but all I had at the moment. This was uncharted territory for me.

Her bottom lip quivered. "Oh, please , Max."

"A week," I promised.

She nodded, a little wobbly. "I bet if you spend another week, you'll stay, Max. This really is a great place."

I looked at Maggs, sprawled across the fancy, cushy, furry dog bed Poppy had bought her with some of her newfound wealth. Maggs could probably use another week of recovery. All that action last night had set her back some . . .

But the longer we stayed, the harder it would be to leave. I did want to see what else Oz had stashed away. The bed was comfortable and the food was great. Maggs was in dog heaven. And it was good to be working with Luke again, although we were not the next Pike and Oz, no matter what Pike thought .

And then there was Rose.

She came into the kitchen looking warm and beautiful in a short, loose silky robe, her hair a mess and her legs going on for miles, and the memory of her naked against me as I woke up was a vivid one. It was going to be vivid for a long time, something to keep me warm on the Trail.

Maybe I'd even come back for a while after I finished the Trail. Maybe, but I was afraid to think that far ahead.

"Thank you," she said to Poppy, for what, I don't know, and then she saw me holding Poppy's hand. "Everything all right here?"

Poppy nodded, still wobbly as she got up. "I've got to get dressed. Big plans for the shop."

"Excellent," Rose said as her daughter started to go past her, and then Poppy stopped and hugged her and whispered, "Queen," in her ear, and Rose got a little teary-eyed as she nodded.

I don't get this happy crying thing, nor the "queen" bit, but at least they weren't bursting into sobs.

Once Poppy was gone, Rose looked at me. "She's a little freaked about you leaving."

"I told her I'd stay another week. If that's all right with you."

She came over and sat down on my lap and put her arms around my neck and said, "That's just fine with me," and kissed me, all that great heat and the faint smell of roses and the taste of Rose against my mouth, a warm woman who cared about me and who I cared about more than I'd realized, and instead of repeating, "But it'll only be another week, just until Maggs is good to go," I put my arms around her and pulled her close.

There I was, wrapped in warmth and genuine caring, and I almost thought Poppy was right, that I'd finally found a place I belonged.

Sanity came back, of course—that kind of life was not for me, it was a dangerous thing to stop moving because then my demons could catch up to me—but it was a nice thought while it lasted.