Serendipity ○ All 14

23. Silas

Silas didn't want to be the lookout for Greta when she stole the chickens, but there he was, ten o'clock at night, sitting behind the wheel of North's Jeep. He tapped his big thumbs on the steering wheel along to the beat of the classic rock playing from North's CD in the stereo.

Addie was in the front seat, humming and singing along, gazing out the windshield. She had her feet curled up under her and had the heater's on full blast.

Thinking back, Silas remembered her saying she got cold easily. Something about poor circulation. With the weather as cold as it was during night time, he didn't blame her for having the heat on so high.

Without saying a word, Silas reached over and trapped her small hands in his. Rubbing back and forth to create friction, he pondered how she handled the winter in New Haven if she was already feeling like a little ball of ice.

She smiled at him softly, conveying her thanks in one gesture. He squeezed her hands in his own way of saying it was no problem.

Hell, it was no skin off his back. Touching her didn't feel like an obligation.

If anything, he wouldn't mind dragging her across the center console and spinning her until she was strandling his lap so he could get more contact.

They were parked at the end of the road, waiting on Greta to come back with some chickens, which sounded as weird in his head as it did out loud. When his brothers told him that he was responsible for being look out, he wasn't excited about it.

It brought him back to the Academy days where he had to do stakeouts for missions. There was a lot he missed from those days, but sitting in the car with his eyes peeled wasn't one of them.

Addie shifted in her seat and winced a little. Thinking something was wrong, Silas made an inquiring noise in the back of his throat. "I'm okay," she said and gave him a reassuring smile. "Just a little achy from sleeping on your couch."

"Silly girl," Silas rumbled, displeased about her choice to keep sleeping downstairs. "We've all offered up our beds for that reason."

"I know, I know," she drawled and fiddled with his fingers. "I'm not taking any of your beds." Stubborn woman thought that just because she was a guest, that she couldn't except basic hospitality.

An idea started to form in his head. If she wouldn't trade the couch for a bed, that just meant that he'd have to drag her to bed with him. It was simple. He'd toss her over his shoulder if he had to.

All he knew was that she had to stop if it was making her ache. Knowing his girl was hurting when it could easily be rectified drove him nuts.

Silas continued to warm up her hands and looked out from behind the windshield. Greta should get back soon.

In the middle of the woods, Silas was parked off to the side of the gravel road, idling in the Jeep. He made sure his headlights were off so they wouldn't be spotted. He wasn't sure how Greta planned to accomplish stealing the chickens.

All she said was that she would charm her way through Old Betty's husband if she got caught.

Stealing didn't sit right with him, but it was penance for what she put his brothers through with the chicken coop. They said revenge was a dish best served cold and all.

He was excited to have their own chickens and eggs. North just started growing their garden, which was turning out to be quite the task, but he said that they'd build a green house to protect the plants from the harsher environment.

Silas didn't question him, knowing that North knew what he was doing.

Plus, he was happy to have homemade meals again. Eating out of canned jars was starting to get tedious. He remembered what it was like when the food started to expire a few years ago. He didn't want to go back to that.