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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

JAXON

W e leave Sawyer and Edie’s house the next afternoon, the two women laughing and hugging and promising to see each other again soon. It takes a good ten minutes to get Charlotte to the car, but I don’t mind. I like seeing her happy.

“You enjoy yourself last night?” Sawyer asks, amusement clear in his voice.

I hate that my face gets hot.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter. “She wanted?—”

“I don’t need to hear it.” He grins. “Edie warned me, at least. Also, I think that’s what they’re talking about right now.”

As if on cue, both Edie and Charlotte glance over at us, then dissolve into giggles.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, and then Sawyer laughs, too, and claps me on the back.

“You take care of her,” he says in a low voice. “Especially if she is one of us.”

“I’m planning on it.”

It takes another few minutes, but eventually, Charlotte and I are back in my car, heading west to Louisiana. Charlotte insists on driving, and I let her. I don’t need to sleep much, but I do need to sleep sometimes. And it’s been a while.

“You’re okay driving?” I ask as I stretch out on the backseat—again, at her insistence. The car winds through Pensacola. She has the windows cracked to let the sea breeze in.

“What, you worried I’m going to kidnap you?” She meets my gaze in the rearview mirror.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I mean, I came out here looking for Edie, and I found her.” She pauses, eyes dropping back to the road. “I guess I found other things, too. Things I didn’t know I needed to look for.”

My belly clenches at that.

“Go to sleep,” she says. “We can talk later.”

Honestly, I’m glad she says that because I’m tired—as tired as she was last night, maybe—and I settle down in the backseat and close my eyes and then I’m out.

If I dream, even about my gods, I don’t remember it.

When I wake up the light is soft and hazy, everything cast in a kind of golden glow. Twilight. Charlotte’s listening to the radio, classic rock playing softly over the speakers, and she sings along, her voice sweet and clear. I groan as I sit up, and Charlotte yelps in surprise.

“Don’t stop.” I drape myself into the gap between the seats. “You have a nice voice.”

She glances sideways at me, a smile curling up her lips. “Thanks. Growing up in a church will do that for you.”

“So, where are we?” I squint out the windows, trying to get my bearings. Everything’s flat, and the sky’s the color of cotton candy. “In Louisiana already?”

“Yeah. About an hour away from your place, according to the GPS.” Charlotte nods at the passenger seat. “I stopped for food, by the way. There’s a cold hamburger waiting for you if you want it.”

“I slept through that?” I rub my face. That’s—not great, honestly. I’m a Hunter. I’m supposed to wake up instinctively if there’s danger.

Although I suppose Charlotte pulling into a McDonald’s drive-through doesn’t really count as danger.

I drag myself into the passenger seat, squishing my hamburger a little in the process. It’s still good, though, even if it has cooled down and stuck together. The fries are rubbery and greasy, although I eat those too. Wash it all down with the last of Charlotte’s watered-down Coke.

“I think you wore yourself out last night,” Charlotte says slyly.

“Who’s fault is that?” I say it without missing a beat. “You shouldn’t have been so hot.”

She laughs, and the sound is fucking gorgeous. Edie makes her laugh like that, but Edie’s her human best friend. That I could do the same?—

Well, it makes my chest feel tight and happy.

“You think I’m hot?” she says.

“Have I not made that clear?” I ball up the fast food bag and toss it in the back seat.

“You’ve never said it before.”

Charlotte’s teasing me. I think. I mean, she keeps glancing over at me, and she’s smiling.

“It was implied.” I honestly thought it was. I’ve done things with her I haven’t done any other woman.

She laughs again.

“You’ve never said it to me,” I snap back. Which surprises me, because I’m actually not convinced Charlotte thinks I’m attractive.

“Oh, you’re definitely hot,” she says. “I thought it the first time I saw you in that diner.”

“Really?” I look at her in the falling light. Think about the things I’d like to do to her when we get back to my house.

“We should go back there,” she says. “That hamburger I got was phenomenal.”

“You’ll have to explain why you stuck around.” I settle back in my seat, watching the road stretch out in front of us. It feels good to be back in Louisiana. Florida’s a little too garish for my tastes. “How you wound up with me.”

“They don’t know what you are.”

Not a question. Still, I answer. “Of course not. But I still have to interact with them sometimes. Buy groceries and shit like that.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Could I stay here?” Charlotte says suddenly. “With you?”

My whole body lights up, but I stop myself from showing too much excitement. “Of course. You need training.”

Charlotte smiles a little, the highway lights flickering over her face. “Your house is nicer than my apartment, believe it or not.”

“Well, maybe we can drive out to California to get your stuff.” I settle back in my seat. “I haven’t been on the West Coast in years.”

Charlotte nods. “I think I’d like that. I think I’d like that a lot.”