Sunday
Guy stood on the porch. He looked up slowly, taking in the mass of Talen with shrewd assessment, before his eyes went beyond him to Aislen, and he smiled. “Hi, Aislen.”
“Umm,” Aislen was scattered, her focus still on the scurrying noises all in the walls around her. “Hi, Guy.”
“You look real good. I’d heard you got shot.”
“I did,” Aislen lifted her top to show the scar. “But the hospital patched me up.”
“Oh, wow,” he gawked. “Nice tatts.”
Talen shifted slightly and Aislen dropped the hem of her top, realizing that Guy was staring at her with more than morbid interest in her wound.
Guy’s eyes went back to Talen, and then returned to Aislen. “I was out running errands for June and thought I’d pop by and make sure you don’t need anything, save you from driving in this weather,”
