In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,69
either, which is weird . . . ’cause she’s still half honey badger.”
“Right.”
“But you can tell when that anxiety is getting the best of her. You saw it the other day.”
“She was shaking and naked in the cabinet because there were bears in her kitchen.”
“Exactly. And that was when her meds had stopped working. It seems, though, that the new meds are working. And I’m going to have faith that they are working until I see definite evidence they’re not. I’m not going to assume there is a problem. I’m not going to worry needlessly about problems that aren’t there.”
Shen frowned. He got the feeling she wasn’t really talking to him as much as herself. “That’s great to know, but I’m asking about Stevie.”
“My sister is fine. It sounds like she’s having a great time.”
“So she won’t try to fly away?”
“Not physically, no. But my sister does live in her head. So if she shuts you out for a few hours, don’t take it personally. She’s just creating something. Probably something amazing.”
“Okay.” Shen nodded. “I just wanted to make sure.”
“It’s so cute how protective you are of your new girlfriend.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“You two would make such cute babies!”
Shen disconnected the call and shook his head, wondering—again—what the fuck was happening with his life.
“It’s not my problem,” he told himself. “It’s not my problem. Her sister says she’s fine. So I’m going to . . .”
During his speech, Shen glanced outside and immediately noticed that Stevie was no longer on the railing. Worried she had tried to fly, he went out on the deck and looked out on the water. But the wind shifted and he caught her scent . . . above him.
He looked up and saw her perched on the roof.
“What are you doing up there?”
She shrugged, lips briefly twisting before she admitted, “I chased a bird.”
“Did you catch the bird?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you eat the bird?”
“No. I still need my birds cooked, thank you very much. Perhaps with a light lemon-pepper seasoning. Or a wine sauce.”
“Uh-huh. Was it a seagull?”
“Yeah.”
“When you caught it, did it attack you?”
“It was really mean.”
“Because you snatched it out of the sky.”
“Then it shouldn’t have flown over my head!”
Shen let out a sigh and went back into the house. He grabbed some of that high-end bamboo from Shaanxi, China, went to the couch, and continued watching the baseball game.
* * *
Stevie had nearly filled an entire blank music notebook with her latest work when Shen woke up. He’d fallen asleep in front of the TV, a stalk of half-eaten bamboo hanging out of his mouth, one leg slung over the back of the couch’s headrest.
He hadn’t snored the couple of hours he’d napped, which she was grateful for. And he’d left the baseball game on the TV, which for her was like a soothing white noise.
When he awoke, he sat up straight, the bamboo still in his mouth. He didn’t remove it, though. He just began eating it again and looked around the room. When he saw her, he seemed relieved. Did he think she’d snuck out on him? Why would she do that? This place was awesome. The water. The mostly friendly neighbors. Except Mrs. Bartman down the way who’d told Stevie to “Get the fuck out of my yard, whore!” A reaction that seemed a little extreme, but Stevie didn’t get mad. And the comment made the other nearby neighbors even friendlier because they all hated Mrs. Bartman.
“What time is it?”
“You’re wearing a watch,” she informed Shen.
“I am?”
“Since I’ve met you.”
“Oh, yeah! Look at that. And, hey,” he added, “it’s a Breitling!”
Stevie finally looked up from her work. “You own a Breitling and you didn’t know it? How is that possible?”
“My sister gets free shit all the time. If she doesn’t want it, she gives it to me or Zhen.”
“Lucky. All I ever get from Max is fistfights and from Charlie, concern.”
“She’s trying.”
She again looked away from her work. “She’s trying what?”
“To be better. About worrying over you.”
“How do you know?”
“I called her earlier because I thought you were delusional and you were going to try and fly.”
Stevie laughed. “That’s so ridiculous!”
“I didn’t know. I mean between you hanging out on the railing and the rumors you’re spreading about us dating . . . sorry. I mean telling everyone you’re my girlfriend.”
“I am your girlfriend.”
“You’re not!”
“Since when?”
“Since forever!”
“Look—” Stevie turned in the chair, her arm on the back—“I know you think you have some say in this . . . but you