Текст книги "Raw"

Автор книги: Belle Aurora

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

My office door opens, and Michael strolls in. Making himself comfortable in the guest chair, he puts his feet on the desk. I snap my fingers in warning. The feet come down.

That’s better.

He sighs, “Give me something to do, boss. I’m bored.”

I sniff, “Bored? Here? Get Happy to give you something to do. Or Li—” on second thought, “Not Ling.”

After working with me for over a month now, Michael’s fear of me has dimmed to almost nothing at all.

Almost.

I think he sees me more of a big brother now. Which is cool by me. I always wanted a brother. And if I had a brother in this life, I’d want him to be like Michael. It became clear to me weeks ago that Michael was smarter than even I’d given him credit for. When he approached my office one morning and asked straight out, “Are you a drug dealer?”

I stared him down. Much to my surprise, he didn’t shrink back. Not even an inch. I was impressed. I answered, “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”

He scoffed, “So that’s a fancy way of saying yes.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “I could do drops, you know? I’ve done ‘em before when I worked for Hamid. I know the ins and outs, so I wouldn’t get busted. I wouldn’t disappoint you.”

“You never do, Mickey, but no. That’s not happening. I don’t need any more runners. You’re here because you’re working legit.”

He muttered, “Like you can talk.”

I smirked. He sure got my number down.

Turning to the boy, I ask, “What’s up?”

He grumbled, “Nothing.” If the boy wanted to tell me, he would. So I let it go. As soon as I start typing again, he blurts out, “There’s this girl.”

Of course there is. There’s always a girl. “You seeing this sparrow?”

Shaking his head, he utters, “No. I don’t want to ask her out ‘til I’ve got myself sorted.”

“You look pretty sorted to me, youngin. Got a job, going to school, earning some cash, and doing that all while looking for a place to stay when you turn eighteen.” I raise a brow at him. “I’d say you’re good to go.”

He smiles softly. “Yeah.” Then a firmer, “Yeah, I guess so.” I watch him closely. I see the courage bloom in his eyes and fight my own smile. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna ask her out.”

My lip twitches and I nod at him in approval.

Suddenly, he turns to me. “How exactly do I do that?”

I laugh on the inside.

The kid is toast.

The door to my office bursts open. “I’m gonna ask her out!”

Looking up, I see Michael looking snazzy in black slacks and a white shirt, with his sleeves rolled up and wearing black thin suspenders. He looks so much like Twitch, it’s scary. Minus the tattoos and all.

Narrowing my eyes, I point at his choice of ensemble. He looks down at himself and mutters, “Mr. T said to dress nice.”

Why does this not surprise me?

I mutter to myself, “Of course he did.” Quickly finishing my paragraph, I look up at him and grin. “You look so handsome. Like a mini-Twitch.” He rolls his eyes and I fight the urge to laugh. “Who are you going to ask out, sweetie?”

“Tahlia.”

Oh wow!

My heart swells.

I’m so giddy at the thought of Michael and Tahlia together. Both came from a less-than-stellar upbringing. They would totally get each other. And I know for a fact that Tahlia has a crush on Michael. When I called her last to check on her, she asked about him about three times.

Eyes wide, I lean over my desk a little and mock whisper, “Oh-em-gee! That’s so exciting! How are you going to ask?”

His smile falters. “I-I was just going to ask. Mr. T said to be up front, but not in her face. Just ask, but not give her an option to say no.”

I want to crow with laughter. He went to Twitch for dating advice? Oh dear God. I have to fix this. And quick.

Quelling down the insane urge to cackle, I start, “Honey, no. If you don’t ask her right, it could ruin the whole experience.” His eyes widen in fear, and I sigh, “Where do you plan on taking her?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. The movies or some sh– place.”

I groan, then whine, “Michael! You have to have the date planned beforehand so you can give her the details when she says yes.”

His brows rise. “She’ll say yes?”

I nod and smile softly, “She’ll say yes.”

Suddenly serious, he sits on the edge of my desk and says, “Okay. Cool. I want to take her somewhere nice. Mr. T already said I can have use of the company driver. I want to take her somewhere fancy.”

Ugh. No.

“Mickey, Tahlia isn’t the type of girl who wants to go somewhere fancy. A fancy place would just make her feel awkward and would make it look like you’re trying too hard. Tahlia would like somewhere homey.” I shrug. “Say, an Italian restaurant.” My brain pings and my eyes widen in excitement. “I know just the place! Hold on.”

Grabbing my cell, I quickly type a message.

Me: I need the address for the Italian restaurant you took me to the other night.

The reply comes almost immediately. I’m surprised there’s no hostility showing, being that we ended our visit yesterday in a rather abrupt way.

Twitch: Already booked for the kid and his girl. I’ll give him the address when he gets in. Tell him to move his ass. He’s gonna be late for work.

Smiling like a loon, I fire back a response.

Me: You are so getting laid tonight. Love you x

Twitch: I get laid every night, Angel. x

He doesn’t lie. He does get laid every night.

I’ve all but been living with Twitch for a few weeks now. I’ve only been home to get clothes and check my mail. And whenever I bring clothes from home, he glares holes in my head for not using the closet he’s designated for me. But I keep telling him the closet is creepy!

“You’re all booked, sunshine. Twitch has the details. You’ll get them when you make it to work, which, by the way, you’re going to be late for,” I tell him as I glance at my watch.

Checking his own watch, he hisses, “Shit!” then shoots out of the door. Not a second later, he runs back and pants, “How do I ask her out?”

I tell him what I’d like to hear. “Tell her you’ve been waiting for the right time to ask and that you’ve wanted to for a long time but didn’t know how. Bring her flowers. Daisies, I think. She’ll say yes.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ms. Ballentine.”

I shrug. “You’re one of my kids. I’m going to lose you soon enough. I have to help where I can.”

He blinks at me a moment before dipping his chin. “I’ll always be your kid.”

Then he’s gone.

Leaving me a blubbering mess in my office.

You’re nobody ‘til somebody loves you.

At least that’s how I feel now that I have Lexi. I always thought I needed her because it’s what my mind told me I needed. Because my mind is broken in more ways than one, my interest in her turned into an obsession. Add in a hardcore drug addiction and you’re bound to have trouble. By that point, my mind had advised me that I didn’t just need Lexi, I needed to make her suffer for making me believe there would be a point in my life when things would get better for me…as long as I had her.

When I was eight, I had her. For one night. Fate is a cruel ass bitch, and that night changed everything for me.

I can make excuses.

I could say I was just a damaged kid that grew up to be a broken man.

I could.

But I won’t.

I don’t like labels. I won’t be defined by words like normal, unbalanced, or damaged. There’s so much more to me than words. I have layers, just like the next person, and if you picked me apart layer-by-layer, you’d find a blackened crust where my heart should be. But ever since Lexi came into my life, a thin bud of greenery sprouted there, giving me hope that even I could be the person who makes someone’s day better.

It’s growing every day. And I’ll be damned if anyone tries to take her away from me. I’d kill anyone who tried.

Running a hand through my hair, I swallow hard as my gut sinks.

A decision has to be made. No one would dare take her from me, so why am I risking losing her by telling her the truth?

I know what I did was unforgivable. I could tell her. I know what the result would be, though. My girl would walk out on me in a second flat.

The sinking feeling grows.

There’s a lot that needs to be said. And Nox was right…the noose around my neck is tightening. I can hardly breathe.

“You okay, boss?” The concerned voice coming from the doorway snags my attention.

The kid. “I’m good.” Smirking, I ask, “Are you? You ask your girl out yet or what?”

He half-glares at me. “I would’ve if I didn’t think I’d have been late for work.”

There are just some things that can’t wait. I know this now.

Picking up my cell, I type out a text, press send, and wait. Michael looks more and more nervous by the second, and I smile. I like knowing he still fears me when he shouldn’t. It’s funny.

Happy appears at the office door behind Michael. “’Sup?”

Crossing my arms behind my head, I lean back in my throne and direct them both. “You’re gonna take the kid along with you today. First, he’s got a stop to make, though. Then you can both go about business as per usual.”

Happy’s eyes narrow on me. “No can do. I got…” His eye’s bore into mine. “…shit to do.”

Dammit. I forgot. He’s accompanying some runs today for some bigger drops that need to remain secure. My face falls. I don’t have time to take him myself. I’ve got an appointment in an hour.

I sigh. “Forget about it.” But then I see Mickey’s face. It falls faster than London Bridge. Fuck.

Happy raises a brow at me. I know he’d take him along, he just needs my say so. Lexi would be pissed.

That is, if she found out.

If. If is good.

A grin tugs at my lips. “Go on. Mickey, go ask your girl out, then you’ll be on the road with Happy most of the day.”

The kid’s face turns from stunned disbelief, to shock, to beaming, all in a matter of seconds.

“Seriously?”

Not wanting to see the mush coming off of him, I turn to my laptop, dismissing them both. “Go on. Get.”

Typing away, I pretend not to notice Mickey still standing in the doorway of my office.

“Thank you.” He says this so softly that I barely make it out. “For everything.”

My chest aches.

I respond with equal softness. “You’re welcome.” He gently closes the door behind him.

I whisper into the empty room, “You’re welcome, brother.”

Happy

Grinning like an idiot, I watch Michael run down the steps of the apartment building. His eyes wide, he looks like he’s about to faint.

My heart skips a beat. My smile fades.

He pauses mid-run and walks over to the car almost in slow motion.

Fuck. The kid looks like his heart is breaking.

Dammit.

When he finally reaches the car, he opens the door and sits, staring into the dashboard of the car, his eyes blank.

Reaching over, I clutch his shoulder and ask gently on a squeeze, “What happened, buddy?”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He shrugs. A moment later, he whispers, “She said yes.”

I smile. “She did?”

Still looking confused beyond belief, he nods.

Pushing at his shoulder, I laugh, “Isn’t this what you wanted, kid?”

“Yeah. I mean, of course.” He pauses. “I just don’t get why she’d want me.”

Oh, man. This is getting too deep for me.

I offer him the best comparison I can think of. “You seen Lexi?”

His brow knits as he nods.

“You seen Twitch?”

Brows still bunched, he nods. He nods some more. A small smile tugs at his lips, and I know he gets me. I tell him, “Opposites, bud. Opposites attract.”

Starting the car, I pull out my cell and text Twitch.

Me: The kid got his girl.

Not ten seconds passes when my phone chimes.

Twitch: Good. Now get back to work.

Turning to Michael, I ask, “You ready to see the real side of Falcon Plastics, boy?”

His eyes widen and he whispers, “Fuck yeah.”

I chuckle.

The kid is doing just fine.

Going through the rest of the budget from Falcon Plastics is stressing me out.

Who am I to decide which charities and organizations need it more than others?

Charlie stopped by half an hour ago to find me all but hyperventilating. He asked what the problem was. That was about the time Alexa the Freak-Out Chick pushed her way out of my brain by means of my mouth. “There’s not a lot of money left, Charlie, and I thought this would be easy, you know? Giving money out to people who need it like Robin Hood. Which makes you a member of my merry men. And that’s fine, because you’re like this huge Islander teddy bear, so people would be scared of you and have no idea that you’re a sweetheart, but as a member of my merry men, I have to ask you to take this burden away from me. Because it’s a lot of burden. And I’m only human, Charlie.” I looked up into his eyes in pleading. “I don’t like being Robin Hood. Please don’t make me wear tights.”

And pause for air.

Charlie smiled and stepped closer to me. Once he reached the edge of my desk, he said, “You know what I like about you, Lex?” I shook my head, still in a panic. He went on, “You’ve got heart. And I knew you’d be like this. I’m surprised this didn’t come sooner. But that’s also why I knew you’d be perfect to take care of the budget.” I wasn’t following. And from Charlie’s chuckle, he knew it too. “I know that whoever ends up on your budget will deserve it. I know that every last cent of that money will be given to a range of organizations. The money will be distributed equally and without discrimination.” My heart warmed and he smiled. “That’s why I chose you.”

And with that, he left.

Sitting at my desk, while still stressing but feeling better about it, my phone chimes. Pulling it out of my bag, I see three messages.

Happy: The girl said yes.

Twitch: The kid got his girl.

Mickey: You were right. Tahlia said yes!

Smiling like a loon, I stare into the screen when another text comes through.

Mickey: I think I’m gonna be sick.

Laughing to myself, I suddenly realize I’m not so stressed anymore. There’s really no need to be.

Life is good.

The afternoon passes in a blur.

After double and triple checking my sums, I hand in the revised budget handouts to Charlie. Dawdling, I take my time walking back to my office. Halfway down the hall, I hear my cell ringing, and just as I approach my door, it stops.

Of course.

Walking into my office with a sigh, I check the display.

Ten missed calls from Twitch.

My brow furrows.

My cell lights up in my hand and chimes my ringtone. Twitch again.

I answer playfully with, “Hey you, are you stalking me?”

The response I get kills my good mood. “Baby, you need to come to the hospital. The one on Macquarie Street. You need to come now.”

My heart slowly begins to race.

My voice sounds weak even to me when I ask, “Are you okay?”

I hear him swallow hard. Then gently, “I’m fine. It’s not me, Lex. It’s the kid.”

He says three words that make the blood drain out of my body.

“Michael’s been shot.”

Heart racing out of my chest, I run through the crowded city street.

I run so fast that my legs go numb. I nudge and push my way through the ocean of people without apology. I shout at people to move out of the way.

I’m panicked.

I’m irritated.

Don’t these people understand I have an emergency? How dare they go about their lives when I feel like mine is crumbling?

I’m worried.

I’m frightened.

More so when I finally make it to the entrance of the hospital. Making a stop by the reception, I quickly ask where the emergency waiting room is. Once the answer is given, I’m off. Running down the halls of a sterile hospital, a million thoughts crash through my head.

What if Mickey’s really hurt? What if he needs special help after this? What if he…

Shaking the crazy thoughts out of my head, I decide to wait to get the details so I know what I’m working with here.

It could be nothing.

I run to the end of the hall and I see Twitch. Panting and sweating, I walk over to him. With his back to me, I ask quietly, “What happened?”

Twitch turns to me. His face blank.

Searching my face a moment, he explains, “The kid wanted to ask his girl out. He told me he would’ve done it if he didn’t have to be at work on time so I made Happy take him, then trail the rest of the day.” Lowering his eyes, he shifts around, leans closer, and whispers, “Happy had to make a few stops. Make a few drops. Secure a few shipments.”

The blood drains out of my face.

“Happy took the kid to ask the girl out, then they went to work. They’d been to three other places with no issues.” Taking a step closer to me, he grips my forearms gently. “Happy knew something was wrong as soon as they got in. Too many men. Too many armed men. They tried to snatch the shipment without payment. Happy played it cool, placing the kid behind him before he drew his weapon.”

He reaches up, taking my chin between his fingers and lifting so we meet eye-to-eye. “My runner got shot up. He died at the scene. Happy took one to the shoulder.” He holds my stare for a few seconds. “Michael took one to the back.”

A sudden intake of breath makes me shudder. I step out of his reach and ask shakily, “Where is he?”

Swallowing hard, he takes a step towards me, “Happy got ‘em out through a storm of bullets. He got him here quickly. He was losing blood…”

Another step back. Shakier, “Where is he?”

“…a lot of blood. They started infusing him as soon as he got in. Happy called ahead so they knew what to expect. They were waiting at the emergency doors…”

Quieter, “I want to see him, Twitch.”

“…the blood loss made him weak and he went into cardiac arrest. They brought him back a few times and he fought, baby, he fought hard, but…”

I whisper weakly, “I want to see my cub.”

His eyes turn sad. “…but he died, Angel. He’s gone.”

My heart stops beating altogether. Gasping, I step away from Twitch, holding out my arms as a warning. Do not come any closer to me. With every breath I take, it still feels like I still have no air left in me. My head spins.

He didn’t just say that.

He couldn’t have.

This is a joke. A stupid prank. I’m being Punk’d.

Don’t cry. You’re being Punk’d.

Chest heaving, I look up into those cold brown eyes. Only now, they’re not so cold. They’re warm, apologetic, and pleading.

That’s when it hits me.

He’s gone.

Michael’s really gone.

“No,” I whisper, lifting a shaking hand to cover my mouth while wrapping the other around myself, holding myself. Comforting myself. Closing my eyes tightly, a soft keening cry escapes me.

My sadness is cut short as anger surges through my veins like molten lava.

This is all his fault.

Panting, I snap my eyes open, grit my teeth, and hiss, “This is your fault. All your fault!” Twitch takes a small step back as if my words are physically wounding him. “He was just a boy. And now he’s dead. My job is to help them, and I’m going to have to live with knowing I’m responsible for this – for his death – because…” My voice breaks. “…he never would’ve met you if I wasn’t fucking you!” Dipping my chin, my shoulders shake in silent sobs. Fingers on my arm cause me to flinch away.

Slowly lifting my head, I glare up at him in disgust. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking touch me.” Walking backwards, I throw my parting shot. “Everything you touch turns to shit.”

Turning, I walk away. Crying to myself, I wonder how I’m going to tell Tahlia that her date is cancelled.

Some things in life are so sad that there are no words to describe the amount of sadness, grief, and sorrow a person is feeling.

I assume this is why God allowed humans the simple act of crying.

When a person cries, they feel the sadness slowly ease out of them. They feel as though they are justifiably respecting a person that has died through showing their grief. They allow a moment of sorrow to overcome them and cry out a small portion of their unseen pain.

Calling Tahlia was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

Holding back my tears for a moment, I tried to be strong for her. I really did. She assumed I had called her to congratulate her and give her tips for her date. When she laughed uninhibitedly and shouted, “I can’t believe he finally asked me!” that was the moment I broke down again.

I explained that her date wouldn’t be going ahead and she gave me radio silence. It’s hard to read someone over the phone when they go silent on you. You don’t know what’s happening or what they’re feeling. Sniffling, I told her there had been an accident and that Michael was taken to the hospital. Immediately, Tahlia asked which hospital in a panic. She said she wanted to go see him. I tried hard to ease her into the deep end. That is, until I realized there is no easy way to tell a person that someone they care about has died.

Tahlia continued her silence while I explained that Michael was fatally shot. She listened patiently, never giving away her emotions. She ended our call abruptly with a furious, “Is that all, Ms. Ballentine? I really need to get going.”

Her sudden change in character should’ve been alarming, but I know she was just protecting herself. I pulled myself together enough to tell her I was always free if she needed to talk, and to please let me know if she needed anything. She grunted in my ear and told me that wouldn’t be necessary. We said our restrained goodbyes, and Tahlia had thrown her phone down obviously thinking she had ended the call. But she hadn’t.

I listened to her cry for an hour.

I couldn’t bring myself to hang up. I felt that it would be abandoning her. I couldn’t do that. Not to one of my kids. So I cried with her.

Charlie gave me the rest of the week off. I tried to hide just how badly this was affecting me, but he saw right through me. What he doesn’t know is that a week to myself is a week of torture. My mind will wander down all the paths it shouldn’t.

I’ll spend the week blaming myself. I’ll spend the week hating Twitch. I’ll spend the week missing Michael.

Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, I fall asleep letting out a torrent of tears.

My heart is silently breaking.

Guilt eats away at me.

Why did he have to die when I am allowed to live?

He was seventeen years old.

Somewhere in the middle of sleep and wakefulness, I feel someone slide into bed with me. I smell him right away. Not even fully awake, my mouth parts, and I let out a soft cry as I’m reminded of why he had to sneak in. His arms circle me. He holds me close, rocking me and cooing. I hear his voice hitch every now and then. The warmth of his tears slide down my temple.

He tells me it’s going to be okay. He says he’ll make it better. He tells me he’s sorry. Over and over again.

We fall into a tangle of limbs, and my last though before I fall asleep is, “This is a bad time to tell him I’m pregnant.”

Waking in the dark, I find myself alone and panic for a moment. Lifting my head, I hear movement in the kitchen and my head falls to the pillow with a whoosh.

I dreamed of Twitch while I slept.

He was high up, mounted on a white stallion, wearing gleaming silver armour. His tattooed hand lowered to reach out for me. I stared at that hand a long while before I stepped away from him and watched as he faded out of my mind’s eye.

Perhaps I built him up so much in my head that I don’t see him for what he truly is.

I don’t want a knight in shining armor.

I want a knight in scuffed armor.

I want his helmet to have dents. I want my knight to be real, and dark, and savage. I want my knight to be a survivor. Someone who’s been tested and got through his trials. Not some pussy in gleaming metal.

I don’t want gleaming metal. I don’t need a fucking knight.

I need a fearless warrior.

I need Twitch.

Approaching the kitchen, I stand at the end of the hall looking in.

My heart breaks for him.

He sits with has back to me, shoulders slumped with his chin dipped. Leaving him to some peace and quiet, I turn to leave.

“I need help,” he whispers.

Without turning back to him, I grip the doorframe tightly and respond just as quietly through the thickness in my throat. “I know, baby.”

A moment passes before he asks quietly, “How would I-I mean, how do I—” I hear the frustration loud and clear. “How?”

Finally turning, I take in his defeated posture. “I’ll help you.”

“No. Anyone but you.”

Firmer this time. “I’ll help you, Twitch.”

I almost miss it when he whispers, “Don’t deserve your help.”

He’s right. He doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore his plea. I can’t do that.

Making my way across the room, I place my hand on his bare, tattooed shoulder. He flinches. Recovering quickly, he places his hand on mine and squeezes. “I need help.”

Squeezing his shoulder in a silent show of support, the bridge of my nose tingles. Tears well in my eyes. I try desperately to hold it inside of me. All in vain.

My body shakes in silent sobs. Relief flows through me.

I can’t believe it. I’m stunned. I never thought I’d see the day.

He’s ready.

He wants help.

It’s all over the news.

How a boy of seventeen caught up in delivering drugs was shot and killed by drug dealers in a crooked part of town. How a lucky passer-by and high profile business owner is lucky to be alive after trying to assist the wayward youth. But everyone who hears the story shakes their head in a well, that’s what you get kind of way. Because Michael was just another boy in the system. Another rebellious kid just looking for ways to shock people and be a nuisance. He was just a piece of dirt asking for it.

My heart – barely held together – cracks with every false retelling of the story.

And it gets worse and even more fabricated every damn time.

No one even knew him. He was destined for bigger things. He wanted a life. A good life. He was working hard at achieving that.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

Twitch disappeared this morning before I woke. I was hoping to tell him about our little peanut. Alas, today is not the day. I have no idea how he’ll react. It’s not like I did this deliberately. Spending all those nights over at his house, I really did forget about the darn pesky pill. It sits on my nightstand, so I’m reminded to take it before I go to bed. Unfortunately, after spending a week at his place and only stopping home to check mail, it wasn’t on my mind. And now I’m in the early stages of my pregnancy. So early, that I need to talk to him about it so I can plan, come what may.

A stupid part of my brain wishes he’ll hear the news and vow to be a better man, starting that very minute. The realist part of my brain scoffs.

Not likely.

I’m prepared to do this alone though.

I won’t lie. Having a piece of Twitch inside of me…it feels nice.

Clutching the remote with a death grip, I can’t seem to look away as they accuse Michael of being everything he wasn’t. I want to stand and shout, “You didn’t know him!”

My blood boils.

I click to TV off and throw down the remote.

If there’s anything this situation has taught me it’s that life is short, and if you want something, you have to reach out with both hands and grip it tightly.

I smile to myself.

Good or bad mood, today is the day Twitch finds out I’m pregnant.

I hope for the best while expecting the worst.

Nikki and Dave sit before me, mouths gaping in stunned silence.

I wait patiently for their reactions while I sip at my green tea.

Dave is the first to break. “Pregnant, as in, you’re having a baby? Or pregnant, as in, you’re so full of emotions that you’re pregnant with them, and you could burst at any moment, showering the people of Sydney with a mixture of happy and sad?”

Nikki and I both turn to look at him wearing identical expression of confusion.

His shoulders slump. “Oh dear God. You’re pregnant with sexy demon spawn.”

I smile sadly. “Oh, be nice. He’s not that bad. He’s…” My mind wanders back to the other night. “He knows he needs help. He’s asking for help.”

Nikki reaches across the café table and rests her warm hand on mine. “I know you’re going to be the best momma ever. I just know it. And if Twitch is ready for that, then I’ll support you both one-hundred percent. I know you’d never do a thing to harm your child.”

She’s right. I wouldn’t.

Dave tuts, “Babe, I just don’t get how you let this happen. This was a dumbass thing to do. You barely know the guy.”

Nikki smacks him and I’m thankful for it. I don’t need to hear this right now.

Dave shrugs and mouths, “What?”

At seeing my defeated expression, he caves with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not saying that this is a bad thing. But it could be better, right? And I know with losing Michael you’re on an emotional high right now. I just don’t want you to make any decisions on impaired judgement.” Shuffling his chair close to mine, he wraps an arm around me. I lean into him. “I love you. And whatever decision you make, I’ll be standing right by your side. Like you stood by me. And fought for me.”

And I love him again. The rat bastard.

Playing with my teacup, I avoid their eyes. “I wanted to tell you guys first. I don’t know how this is going to go, but I have faith. He hasn’t told me he loves me yet…” I look up at them both, determination in my eyes. I whisper, “…but I feel it. I know he loves me. It’s almost like he’s afraid to say it. As if it’ll mean he’s weak or something.”

Nikki nods. “Loving someone is a weakness, Lex. You’re handing your heart up on a silver platter for someone to use as they please. You have to have a lot of faith in that person to do that.” She sighs, “You haven’t told us anything about the drug dealing accusations being thrown around, and by you not telling us it’s preposterous, it’s a thing. A real deal kind of thing. So instead of lecturing you, I’ll say this. Someone like Twitch declaring his love for someone is totally a weakness.”

My heart stutters.

They know.

Nikki goes on. “You think on it. Someone who’s got issues with Twitch suddenly has issues with you. It doesn’t have to be personal.” My eyes widen. She’s right. She leans forward and whispers, “Someone who’s got issues with Twitch…” she pauses, “…has issues with your child.”

Nope. I did not think of that.

My heart races.

Dave remains tight-lipped but I can see he wants to say something. I ask, “You got something to add?”

He whooshes out in a rush, “Oh, thank you!” Clearing his throat, he utters, “If you’re serious about this guy, you got to be prepared for what comes with a man in his lifestyle.” He says everything I’m happily blocking out. “Drugs, misery, addiction, women.” He looks at me apologetically. “A man like Twitch doesn’t lock himself down to one woman, baby. I’m sorry, but they don’t.”

Tapping the edge of my teacup with my fingernail, I take in the sudden silence with thanks.