Page 18 of The Stranger
“We could start with that,” I tease. “Look, I’m not expecting you to be grateful, but you could stop acting like I’ve hurt you or done something wrong by caring.”
She pulls her head back, staring at me as if I just started speaking a foreign language. “Do you care?”
I step toward her. Just half a step. Not enough to cause her to release her claws or whatever feral cats do. “Of course, I care. Why else would I be doing this?”
“Why?” Her brows pinch together as she stares at me.
“Why?” I repeat, furrowing my brow. “Why what?”
“Why do you care? You don’t know me.”
“Because…because you’re a human being.” I wave my hand at her. “At least in theory.”
Her lips pinch together. “In theory?”
“Well, at times you seem more like a robot or feral cat, to be honest.”
She folds her arms across her chest, sitting down on the end of the bed with a sigh. “I’ve always liked cats. They don’t trust anyone. I respect that.”
I nod. “I’m more of a dog guy.”
“Makes sense.” When her gaze flicks up toward me, there’s a hint of joy there. She’s teasing me, I think. “You’re basically a golden retriever.”
I touch my hair.
“Not because of that. The blond. Well, that helps, I guess. It’s the cherry on top. But I’m saying it’s everything else about you. You’re too happy. Too trusting.”
“Fair enough. I’d rather be happy and trusting than bitter and jaded.”
She scowls. “Because you’ve been allowed to be. For women, for me, it’s better to be bitter, jaded, and alive than too trusting and dead.”
Something cold slides through me, and I instantly miss the shower. The idea of her being dead does something to my emotions I can’t rationalize.
“Maybe…”
She looks up at the sound of my voice.
“Maybe you could just be happy and alive.”
She chews on the nail of her pointer finger thoughtfully. “I don’t think it works like that. Cats and dogs don’t typically get along.”
“Because cats think dogs are going to hurt them,” I point out.
“Sometimes they do. Usually they do.”
“Maybe so, but not always. Sometimes, cats let their guards down, and they become best friends.” I wink.
She rolls her eyes, looking away. “Is that what you want, Walker? To be my best friend?”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “I’d settle for not being enemies.”
Standing to her feet, she holds out a hand. “Fine. Not enemies, then.”
I stare at her hand, at the blood on her sleeve and the wounds on her palms. Whatever happened to her, it was bad.
I reach out, taking her hand in mine. The second our skin connects, lightning shoots through my body, the place where our palms meet is electric and buzzing.
None of this is normal. I’m highly aware of that.