Page 9 of The Queen's Denial

I have no words. I swallow hard, pushing my legs together as a cramp of painful desire overtakes me. I try to find my voice but come up with nothing. I can’t believe this man has made me clam up like this. No one has this effect on me.

He backs up, looking directly into my eyes. “Nothing to say now, huh?” His cocky gaze doesn’t do what I want it to do. It makes my belly clench and my brain blank. I’ve never had stage fright, but I imagine this must be what it feels like. The inability to speak or form any coherent words in the face of unbearable tension. That’s what this is.

And then suddenly, the tension is gone as he stands up from the bed and whips the large, weighted comforter over me.

“Wait!” I yell at him. “That’s it? What am I, five years old? You’re just going to tuck me in and leave?”

I see a flash of confusion on his face. “What do you mean? What am I supposed to stay in here for?”

I’m actually not sure what I meant by that. It’s just that, at the hospital, I had gotten used to him sitting by me while I slept. If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that the last two nights were long and difficult because he wasn’t here, and I’ve been waiting for him all day because… I missed his presence.

He sees my indecision, and it seems to click for him. Instead of embarrassing me or making me ask him to stay, he narrows his eyes and looks around the room, taking his jacket off and draping it across the chair.

“Okay, I’ll hang out for a bit. But I don’t want to be a distraction. I want you well rested and ready to… enjoy your activities tomorrow.”

“Well, I just wanted to know how my best friend was doing.” I shoot him a dire look. “I know you’ve been telling your guys not to discuss it with me.”

He doesn’t even bother trying to deny it. “I wanted to tell you myself. Didn’t want to freak you out.”

“What happened?” I know something did now, just by the way he says it.

He moves to my dresser — the same dresser I’ve had since I was a teenager. “Mara was held for a short period of time by Derrick’s father, Anton, the underboss of the Rhode Island bratva. You know him, I’m guessing?” My eyes widen and I nod.

“She was hurt, and Derrick was actually helping her out while his father contemplated whether to present her to Maxim or get rid of her. Seemed like he wanted to…” He trails off while he tinkers with a Chewbacca bobble-head under my vanity mirror. “Why do you have all these toys?”

“It’s a collector’s item,” I respond, swatting the question away as quickly as possible. “His father what? Wanted to kill her?” I’m guessing Andy’s trying to change the subject, but I’m having none of that. And it seems that everyone wants to kill Mara these days, so it’s more than an educated guess on my part.

Andy is clearly preoccupied with the Star Wars paraphernalia I have lined up along my dresser but answers anyway, “That’s what it sounded like.”

“Oh my God. Can I see her?” I ask, my head twinging again with pain.

Andy sees my flinch out of the corner of his eye and looks at me sternly. “Your head hurts because you’re stressing over something that you don’t need to stress over. This is why I didn’t want to talk to you about it. It’s not really something you should be worrying about. Cas has it handled, Chi. He can take care of Mara.”

I shake my head. “I’m sure he’s railing her up against the fucking headboard right now, but that’s not necessarily taking care of her.”

“I doubt that, since she got shot,” Andy says, picking up my Darth Vader helmet and studying it. “Can you actually wear this?”

“She got fucking shot? Put that down and look at me!” I’m a little upset, probably taking it out on Andy more than I should be, but he needs to stop fucking around and answer my questions.

Andy stays calm, as he always does, and finally shoots me a smirk and some eye contact. “Yes, Chee-chee, she got fucking shot. A decent chunk of her thigh got blown off. Like I said, Cas will take care of her.” He picks up my Baby Yoda plushie. “Okay. What’s the story with this guy?”

“Um, he’s the cutest fucking thing in the world; that’s the story. Why don’t you want to talk to me about this? You can’t be this blatantly unconcerned about a good friend.”

Andy sighs, dropping the doll and moving on down my dresser. “I know chicks dwell on this shit, but none of our guys do, Chi. Of course I care if Mara’s okay, but I’m not gonna sit here worrying about it when Cas has it covered, just like Cas didn’t worry about it when you got hurt. And you shouldn’t, either.”

“Fine,” I grumble, begrudgingly accepting his shit logic for the moment. “I want to see her ASAP, though.”

Andy doesn’t answer as he studies the few pictures on my dresser. “Who is this?” he asks, squinting at one of the smaller frames. “You and your dad… is this your whole family?”

I know what he’s looking at and don’t really feel like talking about it, because… I don’t ever really feel like talking about it. It’s always a weird conversation, but only because family dynamics like the ones mine have make everyone else uncomfortable. For me, it’s just my life. Just normal, everyday business as usual.

“It’s my mom and my brother, yeah.”

He peeks at me and then back at the picture. “Nice braces,” he says, lip tilting up slightly.

I roll my eyes and appreciate the fact that he hasn’t immediately asked me about them, like everyone else. But I know it’s coming, and I’m right.

“I’ve never seen a picture of him.”

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