I grabbed my coat off the hook by the door, clutching it tightly in both hands, as Reid checked the weather in Joliette on his phone.
He clicked his tongue. “Pretty damn cold.”
“Yeah?” I shrugged into my coat.
“Yeah. Should I wear a coat?”
My brows rose and I looked up at him. “Is it really cold enough for you to be cold?”
“No,” he replied, as he slipped his phone into his back pocket, “but I’ll be serum-less.“
“Yeah, for, like, 30 seconds.”
“Dying and cold?” He frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“You aren’t as funny as you think you are.”
“Don’t insult me, Natalie.”
He went upstairs for a coat—his only coat. It wasn’t kept in our closet, in the bedroom where my mother still slept. His coat was kept on the top shelf in the closet in the guest bedroom, because he so rarely wore it.
I c
